Changing the World
by 1note
Summary: Sequel to "Balance of Power" AU S8. Buffy thought life was gonna get easier. Yeah, right! Not only does she have hundreds of new Slayers to train, but she soon finds she has to contend with a whole host of new enemies, both "good guys" and bad. With Spike at her side, Buffy's up against soldiers, a crazy warlock, evil Slayers, just to name a few. Follows comics, some AtS episodes.
1. Chapter 1: The Long Way Home pt1

**A/N:** Yep, another sequel. AU, of course. This takes place mostly in the Season 8 comics, though there will be a couple of crossover chapters with _Angel_ Season 5. Timelines will be a bit different: it'll only be about six months since the Hellmouth was destroyed, plus some of the Angel stuff will be switched around. And, of course, the major change will be Spike's presence through the storyline, whereas he was notably absent for much of the comics. Had to remedy that. ;-)

Anyway, on with the story. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_The thing about changing the world...once you do it, the world's all different."_—Buffy Summers

Hard to believe less than six months had passed since the destruction of the Hellmouth. So much had happened since then. Everything was different.

As the senior-most surviving Watcher, Giles inherited everything left behind by the Council. Everything that wasn't lost in the explosion, that is; which turned out to be a hell of a lot. Giles positively seethed when he discovered just how extensive the Council's financial assets really were. Where was all that money when Buffy was barely scraping by on minimum wage as well as patrolling every night? Well, no more. With the new Council of Watchers' substantial funding, no Slayer would ever have to worry about paying the bills ever again. Not only that, but equipment, weapons, technology, everything they could possibly need was soon at their fingertips. And boy, did they ever need it!

Where once there were hundreds of Watchers and only one Slayer, now there were hundreds of Slayers and only a handful of Watchers. Willow and her fellow wiccans detected over eighteen hundreds awakened Slayers all over the world. So far, about five hundred had been gathered for training, divided into ten separate squads scattered across the globe. Each squad was placed in an area of high demonic activity—mostly in or near large cities—and headed by an experienced Sunnydale alum; either one of the original Scoobies, or a former Potential who'd fought with Buffy against the First Evil. And they were all more or less headed by Giles, who set up his base of operations in one of the Council's numerous mansions in London. He was the one who kept in contact with all ten squads, collected as much occult material as he could find to rebuild the Council's lost library, and trained the new Watchers.

Giles wasn't alone, though. He had an assistant. A very good one, actually. Anya.

Anya was nearly killed in the last battle against the First Evil when a Bringer ran her through with his sword. Luckily, Xander found her when everyone was evacuating the collapsing high school and carried her out to the bus. The former vengeance demon's recovery was long and painful, but she was getting better. She'd recently graduated from crutches to a cane. With time and persistence, she eventually wouldn't even need that. And it didn't slow her down when it came to the acquiring and organizing of rare occult texts and documents. Anya was invaluable when it came to getting whatever research materials were required.

Once the raw new Slayers were suitably trained, the plan was to send most of them back to their hometowns or other suburban areas with small teams consisting of a witch or warlock and a Watcher. After all, one Slayer was usually enough to handle most supernatural problems. And if a Slayer ever needed help, one phone call could easily rally the others to her aid. An army of Slayers was just overkill. They were looking to police, not to conquer.

That wasn't to say working in teams didn't have advantages.

Buffy resisted the urge to whoop as she and her small team of Slayers-in-training leapt from the open helicopter and plummeted towards the ancient crumbling church below. The structure appeared long abandoned; broken stained glass windows boarded up, walls cracked, roof shingles missing. It would have been easy to disregard the place if it weren't for the mystical forcefield surrounding it.

Gripping the ascending line with her left hand, Buffy readied her sci-fi looking gun in her right hand and aimed it towards the forcefield below. She pulled the trigger, shooting out a blinding beam of harsh blue light. When the condensed beam of counter-magic struck the forcefield, the shimmering dome popped like a bubble, and Buffy and her team landed on the church's roof unhindered.

"Field's vaped and we're on the roof," she declared into her headset.

Xander's voice responded, _"Access should be right in front of you."_

An Irish girl named Leah tore away the weathered boards covering the window in front of them, revealing blackness inside.

"Can't see a thing, ma'am," Satsu, a petite Japanese girl, declared.

_Everybody calls me ma'am these days_, Buffy thought with dismay. She leaned into the window and wrinkled her nose. "Can smell a thing, though."

It was a smell she was all too familiar with; the stink of death. Without hesitation, Buffy dove headfirst through the window.

"What the hell is she doing?" Leah exclaimed.

"You coming?" Buffy called behind her. After some hesitation, the other Slayers followed. They crept through the empty church with its cobweb shrouds and scuttling rodents, everyone tense and alert to possible danger. Aside from Buffy, none of them had ever seen any real action. This was their first hunt—and, if all went well, their first kill.

_"You're five-by-five, Buff,"_ Xander stated calmly, his uncharacteristic professionalism making Buffy smile, _"Satellite has them clustered by the altar and our psychics read them as unaware. Soon as Rowena's placed, we're go."_

Nothing between her and the next fight to the death except a flimsy door. Buffy readied herself for the go-ahead.

_"Okay, Buff. Game on."_

One good kick and the door splintered. Buffy and her team rushed into the nave. Standing at the altar were three massive reptilian demons. The bodies of two young men lay at their clawed feet. There were a couple of gasps from the new Slayers; none of them had ever seen victims before. Buffy knew she had to keep them moving or they'd choke.

"Flank 'em! Now!"

To their credit, the girls were quick to obey. Meanwhile, Buffy ran towards the largest of the demonic trio. The creature spread its claws in anticipation. "Thisss one looksss tasssty," it hissed.

Buffy grinned and kicked it in the underside of its jaw, causing its mouth to slam painfully shut. The demon countered with a sweep of its broad tail. It was faster than Buffy anticipated and she found herself flying into the altar, sending wood fragments and votive candles tumbling.

"Sssad little girl," one of the other demons rumbled a laugh, "Lossst the element of sssurprise."

At that moment, Rowena and her team appeared outside the windows behind the two demons, suspended from ropes tethered to the roof. They fired their crossbows, the reinforced metal darts penetrating the backs of the creatures skulls and bursting through their gaping mouths. The demons dropped like felled trees.

"That went well," Rowena declared with a smug grin.

The remaining demon charged at Buffy. Thinking fast, she grabbed he first object that came to hand; the large crucifix from the altar.

"Ssstupid human!" the creature snarled, "I am no vampire. You think I fear the cross?"

Buffy leapt and slammed the base of the crucifix into the crown of the demon's head. She put all her considerable strength behind the blow, which resulted in the creature's skull caving in like a crushed egg.

"Might wanna start," the Slayer quipped.

"That were a wee bit repulsive," Leah declared. She and the other trainees took in the green-tinged carnage with varying degrees of disgust.

Buffy just shrugged. "Went okay, 'cept I feel a little weird about using a crucifix to kill someone."

_"You don't know much about religion, do you, pet?"_ a familiar accented voice purred through the headset.

A wide grin appeared on the blonde's face. "Hey, you."

_"Ran off without me,"_ Spike accused good-naturedly, _"Just had to hog all the fun for yourself, didn't you."_

"Yep. Just me and half a dozen other heavily armed Slayers. How ever did we survive without you?"

The vampire chuckled. _"Beginner's luck."_

"Ma'am," Satsu called out, "Sorry to interrupt, but I think you need to see this."

The girl was standing by the two human bodies. Buffy joined her and stared down at the victims. They were young, late teens, probably. Wearing simple gray robes, dark pants, and they were barefoot. Their exposed chests were covered in weird symbols, either red paint or blood. Buffy glanced at an arrangement of black candles and a bowl of some kind of smoldering incense. There was also a dead raven with its throat slit; blood it is.

A summoning gone horribly wrong. Two idiots greedy for riches or power or both, and instead they wound up slaughtered by the very monsters they'd called.

Buffy had Satsu take pictures of everything to send to records. All the Slayers then disposed of the demon corpses, dragging them outside and dousing them with plenty of gasoline before they torched them. Once that was done, an anonymous call was placed to the local authorities so the two men's bodies would be found, then Buffy and her team boarded the helicopter and headed for home.

* * *

Buffy loved Scotland. Sure, the weather was colder than she was used to, and finding decent Chinese takeout was an epic challenge, but the countryside was beautiful, the neighbors (the nearest of which were miles off) were friendly and knew when to mind their own business...

...and they lived in a freakin' _castle!_

A real, honest to god, King Arthury, medieval castle. With a moat and everything!

Okay, it had a lot of modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and wi-fi. But still...castle!

To top it off, Buffy's very own knight in black leather was waiting for her when the 'copter touched down. His long coat flapped behind him like a superhero's cape in the wind kicked up by the rotors. Buffy hopped out of the helicopter and trotted over to him, her broad smile matching his.

"Miss me?" She put her arms around Spike's neck and rose up on her toes to kiss him. Spike's arms wound around her waist, pulling her flush against him. When the kiss ended, he gave her a mildly admonishing glare.

"Thanks for askin' me along, by the way."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You were busy with Dawn. Besides, it was in a church!"

The vampire snorted. It was a lame excuse, considering crosses no longer bothered him; a delightful benefit to the Claim that bound his existence to hers. Crosses, holy water, sunlight; none of those things harmed him anymore. If it weren't for the lack of a heartbeat and the fact that he still needed to feed on blood, he might've thought he was turning human.

Spike slung an arm around Buffy's shoulders and walked with her into the castle. The place was bustling with Slayers-in-training headed for their rooms to bed down for the night. Spike was looking forward to the peace and quiet.

"You should talk to Dawn," he abruptly suggested.

Buffy winced. "She's just gonna whine."

"Well, she's got a lot to whine about, luv," the peroxided blonde reasoned.

"Can't we just wait 'til Willow gets here?" Buffy wheedled, "Or you could talk with her some more. She likes you more than me, anyway."

Spike sighed, "Buffy, she needs her sister."

Her shoulders slumped. She hated it when he was right. "Fine," she huffed, "I'll go. But she's not gonna tell me anything helpful, y'know. She's just gonna be all woe-is-me and probably find a way to make it all my fault."

"That's the spirit." Spike gave her a peck on the lips and headed for their room.

Grumbling, Buffy made her way to the castle's courtyard. It was the only place big enough to hold Dawn since her unfortunate...condition.

"Hey," Buffy forced a cheery tone, "Thought I'd come and see you."

The fifty-foot-tall giant that was once her ordinary teenaged sister sat morosely on the lawn with her back to the nearest sturdy wall. Dawn didn't even look at Buffy when she responded in a dull (yet booming) voice, "'Cause Spike made you?"

Buffy feigned ignorance, "What're you talking about?"

"Has Willow called?"

"I'm sure she will soon," Buffy reassured her, "But if you told me about it—"

"I'm not talking to you about it," Dawn interrupted.

The petite blonde frowned. Even though she hadn't really wanted to talk, she still felt the sting of her sister's rejection. "But you'll talk to Spike and Willow."

Dawn glared down at her. "They understand me. You just act like it's my fault."

"Well, you were dating a Thricewise!" Buffy snapped in exasperation, "What'd you expect?"

Instead of bristling defensively, Dawn merely hugged herself and slouched even more. Not that slouching made her tower any less. "It's frickin' freezing," she complained, "Why do we have to be in Scotland?"

"_You_ don't have to be in Scotland," Buffy retorted, "_You_ have to be at Berkeley." Figuring out how to transport the suddenly super-sized Dawnie across the pond had been quite the headache. Thank god they lived in the middle of nowhere. Dawn could at least get out once in a while and run around on the moor.

"Believe me," Dawn muttered angrily, "as soon as I'm person-sized, I'm outta here."

"Fine. I got things to do." Buffy headed back inside, as frustrated as she always was after trying to deal with her recalcitrant sister.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Spike asked as soon as she stomped into their room.

Buffy scoffed, "Like you have to ask." She stripped off her uniform top and flung it into the hamper with unnecessary force. "I just _know_ Dawn had sex with that Thricewise Kenny and won't say anything to me. But she'll tell _Willow_," her pants quickly joined her top, along with her bra. She stormed over to the dresser and yanked open the second drawer, almost tipping the whole thing over with the violence of her actions.

Spike reclined on their king-sized bed and watched her rummage for a nightgown while she continued to rant.

"Fine, her first time and it all goes wrong, which I'm _totally_ well versed in. And anyhow, Willow's the expert on boys since _when_, now?" Buffy finally yanked out a plain white nightie and slammed the drawer shut. "God! I can't even feel sorry for myself in a linear fashion." She managed to angrily dress herself without tearing the nightgown, then stomped over to the bed and flopped herself down beside the silent vampire.

Spike waited a few minutes until he sensed she'd calmed down a little before turning onto his side and gently pulling her to him. Buffy sighed and buried her face in his chest. "I just wish she'd trust me," she lamented, voice muffled.

Spike placed a soft kiss on top of her head. "She will eventually. She just needs to know you're there for her."

Buffy drew back just enough to meet his gaze. "I'm not, though, am I? Ever since..." she let out a humorless laugh, "Y'know, I thought after activating all the Slayers, my life would get easier. It wouldn't just be me carrying the whole world-saving load. I could finally take some time off, relax, maybe take a long vacation with my boyfriend." She snuggled against said boyfriend with a smile, which quickly faded. "But instead I wound up with more responsibilities than ever."

Consequences. Almost two thousand girls and women suddenly blessed with unbelievable power, and none of them knew what to do with it. Someone needed to teach them. Someone needed to be their role-model. Otherwise, the world could end up overrun with a bunch of Evil Faith wannabes.

"I changed the world," she murmured.

"Yeah," Spike gently stroked her hair, "For better or worse."


	2. Chapter 2: The Long Way Home pt2

**A/N:** In the comics, the baddie in this part was Amy. But since I offed Amy in my last story, I decided to dig up somebody else versed in magic that hasn't appeared in BtVS in quite a while.

Also, the masked villain by the name of Twilight who's out to destroy the Slayers and end all magic, _not_ in this story. There will be something in my fanfic called Twilight, but it won't be that character.

Thanks for the reviews so far! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Gotta have a redundancy system. Any incompetent knows that."_—Tucker Wells

Buffy grumbled when she rolled over in bed to discover the space beside her was empty of a certain peroxided vampire. He was still in the room, though. She could sense him. Reluctantly, Buffy cracked her eyes opened and looked around until her bleary gaze locked on the sight of her lover standing naked in front of the window. The curtains were drawn back, flooding the room with early morning sunshine.

Months had passed since they discovered Spike's immunity to the sun's rays, yet he still hadn't gotten over the novelty of being able to stand in broad daylight without winding up a pile of ash. He hadn't realized how much he missed the sun. Now he couldn't get enough of it. He stood in the golden rays with his eyes closed, his lips curved in a faint, peaceful smile. The link hummed with his quiet happiness.

Buffy smiled and got out of bed. She was wearing one of Spike's T-shirts and its hem barely reached the tops of her thighs. She stepped up behind her lover and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hands flattened against his sun-warmed skin. She nuzzled his bare shoulder. "Morning."

Spike turned and put his arms around her, pulling her even closer. He picked up a strand of her hair and watched the way the light played over the golden tresses. "Mornin', Goldilocks."

"I'm starting to think you're turning into a sun worshipper," she teased, "You ever gonna skip a sunny morning at the window?"

"Give a bloke a break," he grinned, "Been livin' in the dark for more than a hundred years. Got a lot to make up for."

Buffy was glad to see him this happy. It took seeing him smile almost every day for her to realize how grim their lives had been before. Sure, there was more joy for them once they Claimed each other; and sure, their days in Slayer HQ were always busy to the point of hectic; but all in all, their lives had a lot more carefree moments lately than either of them could remember experiencing in a long time.

A knock at the door interrupted her musing. "Ma'am?"

Buffy sighed. Speaking of hectic. "Yeah?" she called out.

"Everybody's finishing breakfast and heading out to the courtyard."

Oh, right. She had some new team-building exercises planned for the day. The Slayers-in-training were becoming excellent fighters, but they still had trouble learning to fight together as a unit. Buffy wasn't sure if it was some Slayer instinct telling them to go it alone, but she was determined to train it out of them. They'd all live longer if they watched each other's backs.

"Okay," she replied to the unseen girl at the door, "Give us about twenty minutes. Spike and I'll be out there."

There was a muffled acknowledgment, then the sound of retreating footsteps.

Spike cocked his head. "Twenty minutes?"

Buffy shrugged. "Figured it'd be quicker if we showered together," she replied innocently.

The vampire grinned, tongue curling behind his teeth. He stepped out of her arms, grabbed her hand, and hurried them both to the en-suite bathroom.

* * *

It was chaos out in the courtyard, Slayer against Slayer. Half of them wore ordinary street clothes, while the other half dressed in black ninja-wear. Not that it made any difference; it was every woman for herself out there.

Buffy watched the melee from atop the castle's battlements. Spike was at her side, his long duster flapping majestically in the morning breeze. His platinum blonde hair was almost blindingly white in the sun. Buffy thought he looked like an avenging angel—not that she'd ever use the "A" word in his hearing. Spike took offense at even the vaguest comparison between him and his grandsire.

Figuring that she'd seen enough pandemonium for one day, Buffy raised an air horn over her head and let loose with a deafening blast. She and Spike both winced. The Slayers gradually settled down and turned their collective attention to the blonde couple on the parapet.

"I'm seeing some superior fighting out there," Buffy's voice boomed impressively from her petite frame, "Technique and power that just might give even Spike here a run for his money."

The vampire in question smirked and raised a scarred eyebrow.

"Of course, it's all bloody useless," Spike declared. At the girls' confused looks, he elaborated, "You're all fighting alone. Gettin' in each other's way, not protecting each other's flanks. You're fallin' into the same trap every Slayer in history's wound up in, thinkin' you gotta fight alone. You're failing to use your single most valuable asset...each other."

Buffy resumed from where he left off, "One Slayer fighting alone is formidable. Two is formidabler. Three, mega-formidable. And after mega, it goes mondo, then super, hyper, beaucoup d'crazy stupid...it gets _exponentially_ prefixy."

Spike bit back an amused chuckle and jumped down from the wall. The girls automatically stepped back to give him a clear space, their eyes wary. Buffy was a harsh enough taskmaster, but when Spike got involved with the training, it wasn't unheard of for unlucky girls to require a trip to the castle's fully stocked clinic. Spike did not believe in holding back.

The vampire's piercing blue gaze surveyed the nervous young faces around him. "Leah, Satsu, Rowena."

The three Slayers tensed as he barked their names.

Spike widened his stance and squared his shoulders. His eyes gleamed in anticipation. "Would the three of you ladies kindly kick my arse?"

To their credit, they didn't hesitate. All three girls raised their wooden practice swords and rushed him all at once. Unfortunately, that was as far as their teamwork went. Each Slayer was so busy trying to score a hit on the preternaturally agile vamp, she didn't even pay attention to the other two. Spike knocked Satsu back with a brutal kick to the face and grabbed her sword from her slackened grip. He spun, blocked a swing from Rowena while at the same time elbowing Leah in the solar plexus. One last punch to Rowena's jaw, and the fight was over before they'd barely started.

Buffy leapt down from her perch and approached the three groaning trainees. With her hands behind her back and her stern expression, she looked like a disapproving drill sergeant—which, in a way, she was.

She tsked. "So. Three perfectly valid avenues of attack, good form, on three seasoned, well-trained _corpses_."

The girls lowered their heads in shame.

"So, let's break this down," Buffy continued, "The first clue this was going downhill? Clearly..."

* * *

As usual after a full day's rigorous training, Buffy was exhausted. All she wanted to do was fall into bed for some well-deserved sleep. She would've even skipped dinner, but the last time she missed a meal, Spike chewed her out for a good half hour before he made her a sandwich and practically shoved it down her throat.

Spike was still outside, grabbing a smoke. He'd cut back a lot on the cigarettes, mostly because people kept complaining about second-hand smoke, but he wasn't willing to give up his nicotine fix altogether. He simply limited himself to lighting up outdoors. He was probably chatting up the girls standing guard at the outer wall.

Buffy let out a jaw-popping yawn. God, she was tired! To hell with dinner. She was willing to go through another one of Spike's lectures on proper nutrition if it meant a few extra minutes of REM. She entered her bedroom and froze.

"Hey, Buffy!" Dawn waved from where she was seated on the bed.

"Dawnie!" Buffy's eyes widened in amazement. "You're person-sized again!"

"Yeah, isn't it great?" the teen beamed, "Now I can go back to Berkeley and you don't have to pretend you care anymore."

Buffy's smile waned. "Dawn, I... O-Of course I care! You're my sister."

Dawn gazed solemnly at her. "You've got a whole castle full of sisters, now."

The window suddenly shattered inward. A violent wind screamed through the room, grabbing at Buffy with invisible hands. She flailed in panic as she tried to fight it. "No, I can't go outside! I'm afraid of the dark!"

A disinterested Dawn watched her panic. The teen was untouched by the sudden gale. Her hair didn't even stir. "Buffy," she stated calmly, "you _are_ the dark."

"That's what I meant!" Buffy cried just before she got sucked out the broken window. _I make a wish that I don't fall...I make a wish that I don't fall..._

Buffy landed spread-eagle on something and screamed as her hands and feet were impaled. "_AGH!_ New wish! New wish!"

Something massive loomed over her, a gigantic dragon with glowing eyes. Buffy realized the things piercing her hands and feet were the creature's talons. She hyperventilated, but even in her panicked state, she thought that something about the dragon's features seemed weirdly familiar. "I know you..."

**"Yesss,"** the creature hissed, **"Ssscream..."**

* * *

"So," Spike flicked the ash from his cigarette over the side of the parapet, "What's the deal between you and Harris?"

The Slayer standing guard, a pretty dark-skinned woman named Renee, gave him an unconvincingly puzzled look. "What? There's nothing between me and Mr. Harris."

The vampire snorted.

"There isn't!" she insisted.

"No, right. Of course," Spike drawled, "So, the sudden interest in comic books, James Bond movies, and drywalling has absolutely nothing to do with the one-eyed whelp." He watched in amusement as the girl spluttered. Even if he hadn't witnessed the awkward flirting between Renee and Xander for himself on numerous occasions, their budding romance was the talk of the entire bloody castle. Not as if there was much else for the birds to gossip about.

He took a final puff of his cigarette and tossed the smoldering butt over the side. Much as he'd like to continue watching the girl squirm, he needed to get inside. Buffy was already asleep and he could tell she was having one of her less pleasant dreams. He found that the best way to calm her was for him to hold her while she slept.

Just as Spike was about to take his leave, Renee suddenly tensed, her embarrassment abruptly forgotten. "You hear that?"

Spike frowned, his sensitive ears picking up the faint noise right away. It sounded like...clawing?

Spike whirled and peered down. Staring back up at him were hundreds of zombies scrabbling up the wall. Moonlight glinted off the weapons they carried; swords, axes, maces. The breeze shifted, bringing up the stench of decayed flesh.

"Bugger," the vampire growled. Renee gasped beside him.

* * *

"Yes. Scream... I couldn't bear it if this was painless."

Buffy writhed in bed, face twisted in terror. She was trapped inside the nightmare just as her body was trapped on the bed. The posts at the head and foot boards were magically induced to coil around her ankles and wrists, holding her down like a human sacrifice. An accurate comparison, considering there was a man standing over her clutching a dagger. The man grinned and raised the blade over his head with both hands, ready to plunge it into the helpless Slayer.

The bedroom door slammed open to reveal Xander and a couple of Slayers, drawn by Buffy's distressed cries. All were dressed in their pajamas and Xander had a crossbow aimed at the intruder. The former carpenter's remaining eye widened in surprised recognition. "Well, I'll be damned," he drawled, "Tucker! Long time, no desire whatsoever to see."

Tucker Wells, Andrew's older brother. The last time any of the Scoobies saw him was when he tried to release a bunch of hellhounds during prom. Buffy had stopped him, of course. Now it seemed he'd finally returned for some payback.

"Wait!" he shouted as Xander pointed his crossbow at him, "We can talk about this—" He abruptly drove his dagger into Buffy's chest. "After."

Buffy screamed. Xander fired off his crossbow. The arrow penetrated Tucker's left shoulder a second before the two Slayers tackled him to the floor. Xander rushed over to the bedside and reached for the dagger's handle jutting up from Buffy's chest. "Oh, my god!" He raised the dagger; its blade had split apart like a dry piece of straw, utterly useless. "This is the crappiest sacrificial dagger I've ever seen."

_"What?"_ Tucker exclaimed. He flung off the Slayers with a jolt of electric blue magic, then touched the arrow in his shoulder and caused it to dissolve, sealing the wound in the process.

Xander snorted, "You really think we let Buffy sleep without mystical protection? This isn't open-wand night in Sunnydale, pal. You're dealing with pros."

The dark-haired warlock laughed in disdain. "Any of you 'pros' notice she's still asleep?"

It was true. Buffy's eyes were still tightly closed, her face contorted in fear and pain.

"She's living a nightmare, genius," Tucker sneered, "And the only thing that can wake her up..." dramatic pause, "...is the kiss of true love."

This declaration was met with silence. Not stunned silence, but the kind where one would expect a cricket to start chirping. It wasn't quite the reaction Tucker had expected.

Xander finally cocked an eyebrow and flatly replied, "Seriously? You really haven't been doing your research, have you?"

"What're you talking about?" the warlock snapped, "Your star player's out unless she receives a kiss from someone passionately devoted to her!"

"Yeah. Got that." Xander turned to one of the girls, "Go get Spike."

"Spike?" Tucker sputtered, "What's Buffy's mascot got to do with...oh."

Xander smirked. "Boy, are you ever clueless. You're Andrew's brother, all right."

"_He's_ Andrew's brother?" one of the Slayers asked, incredulous.

"Yep. Bet it's gonna be a fun reunion."

Before the girl could leave to fetch the vampire, Renee suddenly burst into the room, out of breath and frantic. "We're under attack! Full breach on the east wall!"

"Who's breaching?" Xander asked.

"Living dead, sir!"

The former carpenter threw Tucker a mildly impressed look. "Man, you're doing all the classics tonight." He turned to the Slayers. "I need all of you in the field. Keep a guard on him," he pointed at Tucker, "He's bound by our security or he'd've bailed by now. And somebody find Spike!"

"Spike's trying to fight the zombies off at the east wall," Renee informed him, "He told me to get reinforcements."

Tucker laughed as they all rushed out to meet the undead invasion. Ignoring the girl left to guard him, he sauntered over to the window and threw open the shutters. He leaned out and watched the ensuing battle. So far, the Slayers were holding their own, but they wouldn't last against the undead horde forever. The zombies were relentless. Not even head shots so much as slowed them down.

"All that time spent in that crappy institution my parents dumped me in," he mused, "Nothing to do but get stronger. There's not one person here who can take me on."

"Oh, I don't know about that..."

Tucker's gaze jerked up towards the source of the unexpected voice. A woman levitated into view, red hair waving in the breeze.

Willow smiled. "I think I'd like to test that theory."


	3. Chapter 3: The Long Way Home pt3

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Well, a man that worships chaos and tries to kill you is a man you can trust."_—Buffy Summers

The dragon was gone. There was just darkness now. Darkness and pain.

_Please... It hurts too much..._

No matter what Buffy did, the nightmare wouldn't end. She was trapped, at the mercy of whatever awful things her subconscious dredged up. She curled up in a fetal position and waited helplessly for the next horror.

"You can't give up that easily, Buffy."

That voice, the accent. She knew him. Cautiously, she raised her head. A figure stood before her wearing a long coat, holding his hand out to her. "I have so much I need to show you, my love..."

His love. He called her his love. And then she threw up in her mouth a little.

_"Ethan Rayne?"_ Buffy choked.

The sorcerer grinned saucily. "In the flesh, my love."

"And again, a slight barflex," she grimaced, "You _have_ to stop calling me that."

"It's an expression, pet. Like 'pet.'"

"Also not okay," Buffy snapped. There was only one Englishman allowed to use those endearments on her, and since Ethan Rayne wasn't a platinum blonde vampire, he definitely wasn't allowed that privilege. "How did you get in my dream? You're a chaos-worshiping wannabe sorcerer who takes up _none_ of my subconscious, which means you forced your way into my dream.

"I just hitched a ride," Ethan responded, "And we're not in your dream. We're in your dream_space_."

Buffy sighed, rubbed her forehead. "Explainy? Dreamspace?"

Looking slightly put out, the sorcerer explained, "In brief, you are always dreaming every dream you could dream all the time. Even when you're awake, a part of your brain is stirring that brew. Which one you choose to remember in the morning is based on wishes, anxieties—in your case, your collective Slayer memory and prophecies are mixed in as well. It's a vast and fascinating place. Everywhere you turn, a part of you."

"Yeah, great," the petite blonde grumbled, "So, why the hell can't I wake up?"

"You've been trapped in this space. Not by me," he was quick to clarify. Ethan started walking off into the featureless darkness in what seemed to be a random direction. Buffy reluctantly trailed after him.

"We've got to move fast if you're going to be any help on the outside."

Buffy tensed. "What's going on outside?"

* * *

Spike lopped off yet another zombie head with the sword he'd taken from one of the attackers. Not that it did any good. For every undead Scotsman he disabled, three more leapt into the fray, and the zombie he'd beheaded simply picked up its fallen noggin and plopped it back on top of its neck. Now _that_ was annoying! A proper zombie should stay out for the count once it's lost its melon. Spike really hated these buggers.

A few yards away, Spike saw Renee go down with a sword thrust to the back. Spike fought his way to the wounded Slayer's side and tried his best to keep the undead horde away from her. Judging from the loud curses, the girl was still alive, which was a good thing. He just wasn't sure how much longer either of them would be able to stay that way. The zombies showed no signs of slowing down.

A series of blinding flashes drew the vampire's attention skyward for a second. Willow was hovering over the battle, engaged in a fight of her own against a man who was also levitating. A warlock, eh? That explained the invasion of the undead highlanders. Spike smirked. He had a feeling the odds were about to turn in their favor, now that Red was here.

Spike's hunch was proven right moments later when Willow shouted an incantation and an explosive wave of magical energy radiated out from her. It enveloped the horde of zombies who, an instant later, all simultaneously dropped their weapons and held their hands out to the closest individual, living or undead.

"May I have this dance?" the zombie in front of Spike croaked.

The vampire quirked an eyebrow, then promptly severed the creature's head. The headless body wobbled a bit, then toppled over. Just as it was supposed to. Spike grinned in satisfaction.

Everywhere he looked, zombies were asking bewildered Slayers to dance or waltzing with each other. Spike swore he even heard ballroom music playing somewhere.

High above, an enraged Tucker lashed out against Willow. His magical attack nearly sent the witch toppling from the sky. Willow countered with a spell of her own. Back and forth they went, neither seemingly able to get the upper hand; Tucker because he wasn't as strong and Willow; and Willow because she was reluctant to tap into such intense reserves. It would be too easy for her to go dark if she gave in to the temptation to let loose.

Xander's voice crackled over the comm system, _"Say it with me, now: Fe, fi, fo..."_

"Fucking fum!" A huge foot suddenly smashed down on Tucker and drove him into the ground. Like stepping on a bug, Dawn thought smugly.

"Language, sweetie!" Willow admonished the enormous teen. She blinked in surprise. "How come you're a giant?"

"We totally have to talk," Dawn replied.

"It'll have to wait." Willow raised her hands. Light crackled from her fingertips and enveloped the unconscious warlock in a binding spell. Tucker wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Spike was barging his way through the dancing zombies with Renee in his arms. The injured Slayer groaned.

"Hang on, pet," the vampire tried to sound reassuring, "Gotta take you to the clinic to get patched up."

"What, for this?" Renee mustered a pained grin, "'Tis but a scratch."

Spike snorted, "If you're gonna start quotin' sodding Monty Python at me, you can bloody well take yourself to the clinic."

Before the Slayer could think up a retort, another girl ran up to them. "M-Mister Spike," she blurted nervously.

Spike sighed; he hated when they called him mister. "What?"

"Mister Harris needs you inside. It's Buffy—"

That got the vampire's attention. "What's wrong with Buffy?" He quickly checked the link. She was distressed earlier, but he just figured it had to do with the battle. Now the emotions he picked up from her were frustration, worry, and...annoyance?

"The warlock put some kinda spell on her," the girl explained, "Mister Harris said he needed you to break it."

Spike didn't waste time asking any more questions. He foisted Renee off on the girl and rushed into the castle, his duster flapping behind him.

* * *

Buffy barely managed to keep up as Ethan Rayne ran, jumped, and flitted from one dream to the next. Buffy recognized a few of them. Some of them were based on actual memories of hers, while others were created by her fears and desires. They were in turn frightening, irritating, and sometimes downright embarrassing.

"Oh! I always have this one," she griped as a dream version of herself walked down an endless hallway with a set of textbooks clutched in her hands.

_"But I finished school!"_ Dream Buffy cried, _"Why do I have to take French again?"_

"Can we stop and delete this one?" Buffy asked.

"Sorry, lamb," Ethan replied, "Time is a factor. Your enemy's opened his flank a bit. Interfering with someone's dreamstate means attaching a bit of one's own."

Ethan leapt gracefully into yet another dream. Buffy—less gracefully—tumbled to a halt behind him. "Ouch! Dammit!"

The sorcerer ignored her discomfort. "There's a memory here we need."

Buffy took in her surroundings. This definitely wasn't one of her dreams. For one thing, there was a body lying nearby that didn't match any demon she'd ever fought before. The creature was fat, with a warthog face and green skin. In was dressed in some kind of armor and held a battle axe in one of its slack hands. There was something familiar... Then it hit her; this was one of those pig-guard things from that _Star Wars_ movie! Andrew and Xander almost drove her crazy with that stupid trilogy marathon they had one time.

Looking farther, Buffy saw a familiar rundown room. Its most notable furnishings were a TV and VCR set up in front of three large cages. The cages were empty, but Buffy remembered at one time they contained three slavering hellhounds.

"Tucker!" she exclaimed, "_He's_ doing this to me?"

Ethan shrugged. "I can't see outside, myself. But I connected with him and he saw me. Take a look around."

Buffy did and saw Ethan standing in what appeared to be some kind of weird-looking cage. "So, what are you doing in there?"

"Where am I?"

"Cage. Crossbeams, like X's This all, what, means something?" The Slayer frowned in thought. "Three X's. Triple X. So, it's either Vin Diesel or porn, neither of which is real attractive."

"I'm more an antique Roman than a Dane," Ethan said.

Buffy huffed impatiently, "Did I mention I'm not crazy good at symbolism?"

"Just remember what you see here." The sorcerer's smile turned cryptic. "The Twilight is coming. You're going to need all the help you can get...pet."

* * *

The bedroom was crowded; Slayers, Xander, Willow. Spike shoved through them all until he was at the bedside. Buffy lay peacefully with her hands folded over her stomach, as if she were a body lying in a casket. Spike didn't like it. He immediately knelt by the bed and lifted both her hands in his.

"She's okay," Xander hurried to assure him, "She's just sleeping."

"Sure," Spike huffed, "'Cept she's not wakin' up."

"Tucker put a spell on her," Willow told him.

The vampire glared at her. "Can't you bloody undo it?"

"Serious magic's kinda like improv," the witch explained, "You can't just stop it cold; you gotta adapt."

"Is that why I've got an army of the undead playing _Pride and Prejudice_ around my ankles?" Dawn asked from where she peered through the window.

Willow nodded. "Don't worry. As soon as the ball's over, they'll leave."

"I don't care about the sodding zombies!" Spike growled, "How do we wake Buffy?"

"It's a true love spell," Willow said, "Like Sleeping Beauty. She needs to be kissed by her true love."

The vampire blinked. "That's it?"

The redhead grinned. "That's it."

Spike considered this for all of a second, then shrugged and leaned down to press his lips to Buffy's. There was a faint glow around him and the slumbering woman. A moment later, Buffy's eyes fluttered open. Her body stiffened for a second, then relaxed as she processed the situation. Spike felt her lips curve in a smile against his and her arms wrap around his neck. When they finally parted, Buffy smiled up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm. Spike lips. Lips of Spike."

The peroxided blonde vampire chuckled. "How're you feelin', luv?"

"Way better." Buffy sat up with a groan. "I just had the weirdest—Will!" Her face lit up at the sight of her friend. "When did you get here."

"A little after the kilt-wearing zombies started storming the castle," was the redhead's casual reply.

Buffy frowned in confusion. "What zombies?"

Xander spoke up, "We've, uh, gotta catch you up on a few things."

"Okay. Um," Buffy glanced down at herself, "Can it wait 'til after I change out of my nightie?"

* * *

After Buffy learned of the shenanigans that went on while she was in her magically-induced coma, she, Spike, and Willow went down to the castle's huge basement/dungeon where Tucker was being held. The warlock appeared to be unconscious still, but Willow wasn't taking any chances. She had him in a powerful binding spell that kept him shackled to the wall with bands of greenish light. The witch's fingers glowed as she scanned the prisoner for clues as to where he'd come from and what exactly his agenda was.

"He teleported here," Willow declared, "I'm gonna run a trace, see where he came from."

"You think this git's not alone?" Spike asked.

"A couple of his spells reeked of tech. He's working with someone."

"Great," the vampire muttered, "Another evil Trio."

"Hey, by the way," Buffy cut in, "Where's Tara? She still in South America?"

Willow nodded absently. "Yeah. She wanted to keep working on her locator spell. She's pretty sure she's close to a breakthrough. Pretty soon we'll be able to start tracking down the Intendeds."

"God, I hope so." So far, only a handful of people even knew about the Intendeds: Buffy and Spike, Willow and Tara, Xander, Giles, Anya, and Faith. It was decided that, until they figured out how to actually _find_ these special vampires the Powers That Be had chosen to be the Slayers' mates, the girls were better off not knowing. The last thing anyone needed was for Slayers to hesitate staking vampires on the off chance they might be killing their potential soulmates. Buffy fretted about that possibility enough herself.

Willow abruptly changed the subject, "So, what's up with Dawnie being all Godzilla-size? What'd she do? Bone a Thricewise?"

Spike snorted, "Funny you should say that."

"His name's Kenny," Buffy explained, "Dawn met him at Berkeley."

Willow laughed, "No offense, but what is it with you Summers girls and non-human boyfriends?"

Spike grinned and wrapped his arms around Buffy's waist. "Human blokes can't keep up."

They were all still chuckling when Xander entered the room. "Place is more or less locked down. Can I get a sit rep on Dog Boy?"

"'Dog Boy'?" Buffy asked, "I thought that was your nickname for Oz."

"Yeah, but it works for Tucker, too. Y'know, hellhounds. Hounds are dogs," Xander shrugged, "And Hellhound Boy doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

Made sense. Buffy decided to leave it at that. "Willow's still trying to find out where he came from. How're the girls?"

Xander's expression sobered. "We had a couple of fatalities. They were both pretty new, not a lot of experience. Most of the others'll heal overnight, though there's a few whose injuries are serious enough that I'd like to give a 'em couple of days off."

Buffy nodded. "Well, I'll leave that up to you and the doctors." They had their own medical staff working at the castle's clinic. They were very good, and very discreet.

"How's Renee?" Spike asked.

Xander smiled a little. "Not bad, considering she was run through with a broadsword. She is beating herself up, though. Seems to think the attack was somehow her fault because she was standing guard at the time."

The vampire scoffed, "Please! I was there with her. She heard those rotters comin' before I did."

"Really?" Buffy turned to give him a surprised look, "You're losing your touch."

"Guess age is finally catching up with you," Xander quipped.

Before Spike could respond with a suitable retort, Willow spoke up, "Hold up, guys. I'm getting a reaction."

Bluish energy crackled in the air between her and Tucker. The energy expanded, became transparent at its center. What it revealed wasn't the castle wall, however. First there was an image of a utilitarian building situation somewhere in the middle of a barren desert. A sign outside read DREXTALCORP RECYCLING TECHNOLOGIES. The view shifted to a long corridor with nondescript doors evenly spaced down both sides, as well as people standing guard at intervals dressed in weird futuristic armor and carrying automatic weapons.

Xander's wry tone declared, "Guys, I'm pretty sure that's not the kingdom of the faerie-folk."

"A military installation?" Buffy felt Spike tense behind her. "If the Initiative is back..."

Spike frowned at the image before them. "Why does this remind me of a cavern?"

Willow's expression was uneasy. "This is a portal."

Tucker's eyes popped open at that moment. They were solid black. He laughed maniacally as the portal expanded and dragged him and Willow through it.

_"Willow!"_ Buffy tried to leap in after them, only to wind up slamming into the far wall when the portal suddenly vanished.

Xander shouted into his headset, "I need mystics in the basement level now! We need a portal re-opened! Alpha Team, suit up and stand by. _Where are my mystics?_"

"We're bein' played," Spike growled. He helped the Slayer up from the floor. She looked just as angry as him.

"That'll be their last mistake," Buffy stated coldly, "'Cause now I'm seriously pissed off."


	4. Chapter 4: The Long Way Home pt4

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_There is no problem so big or complicated that it can't be blown up."_—General Voll

Dawn roared and smashed her enormous fist into one of the battlement walls. The wall remained standing, although chunks of loosened masonry rained down. Buffy took care to avoid getting hit.

"Dawnie, you know you're not as proportionally strong as you are large."

The teen cradled her bleeding hand. "_I know!_ I just—I can't let something happen to her."

Buffy was sympathetic. "If they manage to reopen the portal—"

"I'm too big!" Dawn shouted, frustrated, "I get it! I've been super-sized!" Her shoulders slumped. "I'm useless."

"That's not—"

"Just bring her back," the teen pleaded, "I trust you to do that, I do, Buffy. But _do_ it. I'm not trying to slam you, I swear, but...Will is like a mom to me."

"Oh, I bet you loved hearing that," Xander remarked sometime later after Buffy related the incident to him. He and Buffy were standing together in the basement, watching two of their stronger mystics hard at work trying to reopen the portal.

"How much longer?" Buffy asked. It had already been hours, long enough for her to shower and change after much cajoling on Spike's part. Buffy's stomach roiled with barely suppressed panic. One of her best friends was taken prisoner by an old enemy and an unknown military organization doing god knew what to her. It was all Buffy could do to keep from screaming at he mystics to hurry the hell up.

"Teleportation's not an exact magic," Xander replied, voice deceptively calm, "Good as these girls are, we're not sportin' a Giles, so... They say maybe another hour. Portal echo will be big enough for maybe one or two guys, tops."

Buffy fidgeted. "What can I do?"

"Figure out who your moving buddy is." Xander smirked. He already knew damn well who she'd pick.

Buffy went upstairs and changed into some clothes better suited for combat, then she followed her inner sense to Spike's location. She wasn't surprised to find him at the armory, already picking out a sword for himself. Buffy went straight to the Scythe and took it down from its wall mount. As always, the second her fingers closed around the weapon's handle, she felt the rightness of it. The Scythe _belonged_ to her. It was part of her, just as it was part of every Slayer.

Spike finally settled on a plain but sturdy broadsword. "They almost got the portal open?"

"Not much longer," Buffy answered.

"Alright, then," he sheathed the sword at his back, "Let's go be heroes."

They returned to the basement to find Xander directing several girls into maneuvering a large convex mirror into position about twenty feet from where the portal would (hopefully) be.

"Gotta figure those soldier boys are gonna be expecting us to come after Willow," Xander explained, "And since they seem to be mixing magic with tech, I'm guessin' they'll have some kind of nasty surprise waiting to set off as soon as that portal's open."

"So, you're thinking magical ray-gun," Buffy ventured.

Her friend shrugged. "It's what _I'd _use."

"Ma'am," one of the mystics called out to Buffy, "We're nearly ready."

Buffy nodded and she and Spike readied themselves.

"We get Willow and we get out," she told the vampire beside her, "Any humans we run into, you go for the wound, unless they get stupid."

"Right," Spike muttered. It was something they constantly drilled into the Slayers-in-training; kill demons, not humans. Spike understood that, but he still chafed under the constraint, especially in this circumstance. He counted Willow as a friend, and no one got away with harming the vampire's friends.

"If Willow can't leave for any reason," Buffy continued, "then neither can I. If I tell you to bail, don't argue. You get out and you regroup."

Spike frowned at that, but nodded all the same. Everyone viewed him as pretty much second in command, even though Xander gave a lot more orders than he did. Still, the Slayers-in-training needed their figurehead as much as they needed a leader. Much as he hated the idea of leaving Buffy behind, he knew she was right to tell him to leave. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

There was a flare of greenish light where the two mystics were chanting. A strange vibration, barely within even Spike's preternatural hearing, set everyone's teeth on edge.

"Get it in place!" Xander barked at the mirror-wranglers, "You got zero seconds! Buff, if that thing's any use, it'll be right away. You jump after and land fighting."

"Yes, sir, mister watcher, sir," Buffy replied cheekily.

"I'll watcher your butt, lady," Xander retorted.

Spike chuckled, "Need to work on that grammar, mate." He unsheathed his sword. Buffy tightened her grip on the Scythe.

The portal opened. Almost immediately, a blinding beam of intense white light erupted from it. The light struck the mirror and was deflected straight back to the source. There was the sound of an explosion through the portal, cries of distress, then the beam cut out, leaving the smell of ozone in its wake.

Xander grinned. "Magic. It's all done with mirrors."

Buffy and Spike didn't hesitate. They rushed through the open portal and emerged in a large room surrounded by injured and disoriented soldiers. An officer was yelling, "Sound off! Who's hurt? _Stay calm, dammit!_"

"No," Buffy answered coldly, "Panic."

What happened next wasn't a battle; it was complete and utter chaos. Bullets flew everywhere, striking fellow soldiers as often as not. And not one of them even touched the deadly pair leaping and whirling through the melee, blades flashing with terrible precision. Blood and screams, destroyed guns and severed hands. When it was finally over, Buffy and Spike were the only ones still standing.

The Slayer stood over the officer who'd been yelling earlier. The man was hurt, but not fatally. The glared defiantly up at the petite blonde.

"We tried to be nice here," Buffy said, "but some of these men are dying. There's one person in this complex powerful enough to heal them. You can tell me where she is, or..."

Lucky for the soldiers, the officer valued their lives enough to cooperate.

Buffy and Spike followed the man's directions and reached a long corridor with evenly spaced doors down either side, just as they'd seen in the vision before Willow was snatched. Buffy had a feeling each of those doors led into a secure cell. She wondered who else they were holding in this place.

There was a crackle of static in her headset and Xander's excited voice came up. _"Hey, we've hacked into the security cameras. What's the what?"_

"Military installation," Buffy replied tersely, "Initiative-y, but way more of your tax dollars at work."

_"Tucker'll be waiting for you,"_ the former carpenter warned.

"Let's hope so," Spike growled, game for anything. "You got any idea where this bloody place is?"

_"Yeah, GPS is coming up...now."_

"Where are we?" Buffy asked.

Xander let out a surprised laugh. _"You're not gonna believe this. You're about two miles south of Sunnydale."_

Spike snorted, "Who says you can't go home again?"

An armed guard appeared from around the corner and the vampire took him out with a brutal kick to the solar plexus. As the soldier writhed on the floor, the couple rounded the corner and saw they'd reached their destination. Tucker was hovering cross-legged in front of a nondescript cell door, grinning evilly. His eyes were black and his hands glowed. He gestured and the surrounding shadows began to coalesce into a solid humanoid figure.

"Think you and your pet vamp can take me on, Slayer?" Tucker challenged.

Buffy's mouth quirked in a grim smile. "Did I ever tell you about my best friend? I like to think, in a way, that she's a part of me. That even when she's gone, a part of her is with me." She dropped the Scythe and held up her hands. Green electricity began to form around them. Her right hand was soon encased in a transparent glowing gauntlet while her left hand bore a round shield. A one-time-use defense spell devised by Willow herself. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "'Cause it is."

The shadow creature lunged while Tucker fired bolts of energy from his fingers. Buffy blocked the energy rays with the shield and drove her gauntlet-ed fist through the living shadow, shattering the creature on impact.

Meanwhile, Spike took advantage of Tucker's attention on Buffy to kneel beside the guard he'd knocked out and search the man's utility belt. He grinned as his fingers closed around the object he was looking for. He sent a silent warning to Buffy through the link. When he felt her acknowledgment, Spike yanked the pin from the pilfered grenade and flung it towards Tucker. He dove around the corner, followed an instant later by Buffy. Tucker barely had time to register what was happening before the grenade exploded.

Ears ringing, Buffy and Spike peered out to see the results. The end of the hall was a blackened ruin, the cell door splintered inward. There was no sign of Tucker anywhere. The sorcerer probably managed to teleport himself out just in the nick of time.

"Will!" Buffy rushed into the cell with Spike at her side. They had their weapons at the ready, but it proved unnecessary. There was no one in the room except for Willow. She was lying on an exam table with some kind of magical restraints holding her in place. A small table on rollers nearby held an array of sinister-looking medical tools. The witch's head was turned away.

Buffy hurried over and broke away the restraints. As soon as she was free, Willow murmured what sounded like a healing spell. A second later, she turned her head and smiled up at her rescuers. The sweat beading her brow was the only sign that anything had happened to her. "Hey, guys."

Relieved, Buffy yanked her friend into a fierce hug.

Spike's wry voice broke in, "Hate to interrupt the warm fuzzies, but what's say we get the bloody hell out of here."

"I second that," Willow agreed fervently.

As the three of them left the cell, Buffy informed the witch of her promise to heal the soldiers they'd wounded.

"I don't have a bunch of healing left," Willow stated, apologetic, "but I should be able to stop the worst of it."

"Far as I'm concerned, you can turn 'em into moss," Spike replied, smirking, "As long as it's healthy moss."

Buffy suddenly halted in front of one of the cell doors. "Hey. Déjà thing." She pointed at the number painted on the door. "Roman numerals. Triple X. Thirty. Ethan Rayne showed me this in my dream."

"You think this is where he was sent after the Initiative arrested him?" Willow asked.

"Only one way to find out." Buffy proceeded to kick in the door. "Okay, Ethan. You got yourself a 'get out of jail free' card. But I hear the words 'my' or 'love'..."

She gasped at the sight that greeted her when the door swung open. Ethan Rayne was slouched against the wall beside a utilitarian bunk. A wide trail of blood ran down from the spot where he'd been standing to where he now sprawled, more blood dripping from the bullet hole between his eyes.

The three of them stared in shock at the dead sorcerer. Then Spike's keen ears picked up the sounds of breathing, a racing heartbeat, then a faint click an instant before the vampire's arm lashed out and struck down the hand pointing a semiautomatic at Buffy's head. The gun went off, the bullet ricocheting off the floor and into the wall. Spike twisted the weapon out of the attacker's hand, breaking a couple of fingers in the process, then flung the man across the room to land on the cell's bunk.

Rage caused Spike's features to morph into full vamp-face. Snarling, he moved to finish the soldier off when Buffy placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. His muscles vibrated with the urge to inflict harm on his lover's attacker, but he stayed put.

Buffy looked at Willow. "Heal the soldiers and see who else they've got in these cells."

"No one worth much," the man spoke up. Judging from the elaborate ribbons and insignia on his uniform, this was the guy in charge. Probably a general, though Buffy wasn't all that sure. A nametag at his breast bore the name Voll.

"The only one who could have helped you was Rayne," Voll rasped. His eyes blazed with hatred as he gazed up at the Slayer. "For you, for all your monstrous spawn...it all ends very soon."

Buffy glared. "Are you talking about the girls who are protecting the world from—"

"Evil? Demons?" the general uttered a bitter laugh, "Where do you think your power comes from? Oh, wait, _you already know_." His face twisted with even greater loathing, if that was possible. "You've upset the balance, girl. Do you really think we're going to sit by and let you create a master race?"

Buffy huffed, "This isn't about demons at all, is it? It's about women." It always seemed to boil down to some misogynistic psycho. "It's about power and it's about women and you just hate those two words in the same sentence, don't you?"

Voll laughed at her simplistic view. "You think it's only men want to bring you down?" The smile slipped from his expression as quickly as it appeared. "We've all heard the warnings. Every psychic, every seer and augur, they all say the same thing. The Twilight is coming."

Buffy frowned; Ethan had said the same thing to her in the dream. "What's the Twilight?"

"Something we're going to prevent at all costs," Voll stated grimly.

"Another apocalypse, is it?" Spike heaved a weary sigh, "We've stopped a few of those in our time, y'know. Why come after us when we should be helpin' each other?"

"Because you're the ones who cause it!" the general spat, "Anyone with even the slightest bit of precognition says it; Buffy Summers will bring the Twilight. Unless we stop it. You've been to war with the demons, with the First, but believe me, you picked the wrong side. 'Cause god help us, if you win, we're all finished."

His voice rang with unshakable resolve, "We're not waiting for that to happen. We will wipe you out. Not just monsters anymore. It's you against the world. You're at war with the human race."

Willow's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock. Spike's brow was creased in a dark scowl. As for Buffy, she was obviously shaken by the general's words, by everything they implied. Slayers fighting not just to keep evil at bay, but for their very survival against the people they were trying to protect. All because of this mysterious Twilight. Was it true? Was Buffy destined to bring about the end of the world?

"Oh..." She lowered her gaze, a frightened girl. Then her shoulders straightened, her face became set in determination, and she lifted her eyes to stare straight into Voll's. "...Kay."


	5. Chapter 5: The Chain

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Here's how it works. You don't get a choice."_—The Girl

"We need decoys," Giles stated bluntly. As soon as he heard about the incident with the soldiers, he hopped the first train out of London and came straight to Scotland. Now he and Buffy, Spike, Willow, and Xander were all gathered in one of the castle's many rooms to discuss the latest peril and try to work out some kind of solution.

Buffy frowned in confusion. "Decoys for what?"

Giles stifled a sigh of impatience. "You are a target, Buffy. Not just from the demon world, but now from the human world as well. They all know you are the figurehead of the Slayers and if anything were to happen to you it would be a tremendous blow for morale."

"He's right," Xander agreed.

Buffy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So, what? You wanna send a bunch of girls out that look like me and hope nobody figures out who the real Buffy is?"

"I think that would be best," Giles stated, "At least until we find a better solution."

"I'm not gonna order innocent girls to put their lives on the line for me," she protested.

"They're Slayers, Buff," Xander reasoned, "Their lives are already in danger."

"W-We wouldn't have to order them," Willow added, "We could just ask them to volunteer. I'm betting there won't be any shortage of yeses."

Buffy shook her head, lips pursed. "I don't like it. If something happens to one of them... If they die because somebody thought they were me..."

Spike reached over and gripped her hand. "They're not helpless little girls, Buffy. We'll warn 'em of the risks, let them decide for themselves."

"Better to give our enemies several possible targets rather than one," Giles declared, "That way, they will not be able to concentrate all their resources on a single attack. They will be spread out, and therefore easier for the decoys to handle."

Buffy squeezed Spike's hand and slowly let out her breath. The vampire sensed her inner debate, guilt and turmoil churning in her stomach. Finally, her shoulders slumped. "Okay. I hate it, but...okay."

Giles nodded, relieved. "I'll start selecting possible candidates."

"Don't sugar-coat the risks to them," Buffy ordered, "I want 'em to know exactly what they're getting themselves into before they say yes."

"Agreed." The Watcher and former librarian stood. "I'll get the word out to the other squad leaders. They know their Slayers best and may be able to suggest a few suitable candidates."

Buffy nodded, eyes fixed on her lap. She didn't want any direct involvement with the selection process. She'd never be able to bring herself to choose any of the decoys. Better to let Giles handle it.

The others cleared out until only Spike and Buffy remained in the room. Spike put his arm around the Slayer's shoulders and gently coaxed her into leaning against him. "It's the right thing to do, luv."

"Doesn't feel right," she muttered sadly, "Somebody's gonna get hurt, or killed, and it'll be because of me. I know it won't be my fault, that it'll be the attackers' fault, but I can't _not_ feel responsible."

Spike pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know. That's why you're a good leader. That's why those girls'll follow you into bloody hell. Because you care."

Sometimes she wished she didn't.

* * *

The first decoy was chosen a few weeks later. She was sent to Rome, where she made herself very obvious in the city's party scene. When Spike heard from Andrew's report that the girl had started dating a guy known as the Immortal, he laughed a solid twenty minutes with tears streaming down his face. Buffy had no idea why he found it so damn funny. When asked, Spike remained evasive. But he did mention that he hoped word would get to Angel that Buffy was with the Immortal. "Just wish I could see the Great Poof's face when he finds out," he chuckled.

There were a couple of other decoys—one in South America, one in the States. So far, no attacks against them had been made.

Spike made a point of keeping one ear in the demon community. There were numerous informants in his little network; harmless demons willing to pass on information for a modest sum. It was from one of these informants that Spike learned of Yamanh.

There were hundreds of demon species living underground. As long as they kept to themselves, nobody saw any reason to bother them. But now a power-hungry individual named Yamanh was making a lot of noise in the under-community, saying demonkind should retake the surface from the human infestation and claim their rightful place as the world's masters once again. Rumor had it Yamanh was amassing an army for just that purpose. So far, he and his followers were busy conquering the rest of the under-community and slaughtering anyone who refused to join their cause. But it was only a matter of time before they brought their violence above ground.

The peaceful denizens underground were sending out pleas for help. They'd heard of the Chosen One known as Buffy and were begging for her to save them. There was no way Buffy was going down there, especially not on her own. But there was no reason _another_ Buffy couldn't be sent down in her place. After all, nobody down there knew what she looked like. It was only the name that mattered.

Spike informed Giles that he wanted to be the one to choose this particular decoy. This mission wasn't going to be like the others. She wasn't merely expected to make a scene and draw their enemies' attention. The Slayer who accepted this task would have to face the dangers of the under-community alone, with little or no contact from the upper world, where she would hopefully rally the peaceful demon tribes into joining forces against Yamanh and his followers. Spike knew it would take a special kind of woman to accomplish this. One more like Buffy than any of the other fake Buffys out there. And who better to find such a person than Buffy's vampire lover?

He found her in Chicago. Rona contacted him to let him know she was about to send the latest trainees out on their first unsupervised mission to clear out a nest of vamps. He'd told all the squad leaders that he wanted to see as many of their Slayers in action as possible to get a feel for them. You could tell a lot about a person by how they fought.

Perched atop a roof not far from the alley where the confrontation was taking place, Spike watched the vampires close in on the huddled group of six nervous Slayers.

"This is it," his keen ears heard one of the girls anxiously muttering, "This is really it."

Another stammered, "We just gotta, we gotta, we gotta..."

One of the girls scoffed, the only one who didn't show any fear. She looked like the kind of chit Spike might've hung with back in the 70's during his punk-rocker faze. Pink hair buzzed close to her skull with a longer tuft in the front, numerous piercings, orange tanktop, striped arm-warmers. Everything about her proclaimed to the world that she was badass and eager to prove it. Her voice dripped disdain for her fellow Slayers, "Just stay out of my way, amateurs."

A sword-wielding vampire they hadn't noticed before suddenly leapt out of hiding and landed amid the group of Slayers. The girls scattered and the fighting began. Punk-girl went straight for the vamp with the sword. She was grinning, eager to show off her abilities. Spike dismissed her for the glory-hound she was and focused his attention on an altercation happening a short distance from the main battle. A terrified redhead was backed against a dumpster and about to get her throat ripped out. Her wrists were pinned in the vampire's powerful grip and she was unable to use her stake. Another girl with long black hair tied back in a ponytail took notice and leapt into action. She ducked under the vamp's outstretched arms and drove her fist upward into the creature's chin, knocking him back from his intended victim. The vamp recovered faster than anticipated, however. In the next instant, his fangs sank into the black-haired girl's neck.

Many newbies would have panicked at this point, but not this girl. Instead, she reached back, grabbed the vampire, and flipped him over her shoulders. The redhead quickly staked the vamp while he was still airborne and he dissolved into the expected cloud of dust.

The fight was over. While the rest of the team praised punk-girl for her impressive skills, the redhead quietly thanked her rescuer.

"I can't believe it," Spike heard her say, "You took the bite for me.

The black-haired girl grinned sardonically. "Yeah, got a souvenir," she pressed a hand to her bloodied neck, "Bet I make squad leader."

The redhead wouldn't let her downplay her actions. "Think Simone woulda done that?"

Simone must've been the punk-girl, Spike surmised.

"Besides," redhead smiled in a secretive way, "I hear Buffy's got a neck wound, too."

It affected her, being compared to the legendary Buffy. _You're in for quite a surprise, pet,_ Spike thought with a grin.

* * *

Chicago Squad's headquarters were located in an old apartment building recently purchased with the Council's funds. Rona kept an office on the first floor. She sat behind her surplus-auction desk while Spike casually leaned against the wall in a corner of the room behind her. They didn't wait long before there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Rona responded.

The door opened and the black-haired girl entered the office. Rona indicated the chair in front of her desk, "Take a seat."

The girl approached the chair, froze for a second when she noticed the blonde vampire in the corner. She glanced at Rona, a clear question in her expression. When the older Slayer gave no reaction, the girl hesitantly lowered herself into the chair.

"I'm guessin' you know who that is," Rona pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

The girl threw a sidelong glance towards the vampire. "Um...Spike. Buffy's, uh, b-boyfriend?" she stammered over the label. Most people referred to Spike as Buffy's pet vamp, though not to his face, of course.

"Spike hopped a plane across the pond to see what we got here," Rona explained, "He watched you and your team duke it out with that nest of vamps last night."

The girl's hand unconsciously went to the bandage on her neck. "Uh, Simone dusted the most vamps."

"Simone fought alone," Rona stated flatly, "You looked out for the team. Took a bite for one of your sisters. That's why you're here and Simone ain't."

"And what am I here for?" the girl asked. Her eyes shifted towards the vampire yet again.

Spike straightened and closed the distance between them. "Stand up for a second, will ya, pet?"

Puzzled, the girl did as asked. There was no mistaking the tension in her shoulders as Spike slowly walked around her, eying her from head to toe. "Same height as her," he remarked, "Body type's good. Hair needs a serious dye job." He came to a halt directly in front of her. "We're countin' on these pillocks never having actually seen her. See where I'm getting' at?"

The girl blinked. Blue eyes. Spike thought about contacts, then dismissed the idea. Too much trouble.

"You want me to be Buffy," she answered.

The vampire smirked. "Give the lady a cigar."

"Sounds a lot more glam than it is," Rona said, "We've already got other decoys all over the world, but if you say yes, we'll be sending you underground. Under _actual_ ground. No one up here can know you're her, no one down there can know you're not."

"It's deep cover and it's bloody dangerous," Spike cautioned, "We know sod all about the under-community, except they're strong and they might be headed up. Yamanh's the name down there."

The girl frowned in thought. "If you know his name..."

"...Then he probably knows hers," Spike nodded, "So, yeah, a decoy might keep him occupied. Might do some internal damage." His expression turned sober. "I'm lookin' at you for this, so I gotta figure you want the truth. As in, 'Why me? Did I get the hardest, darkest path to walk 'cause I'm strong, I'm good, I can handle the heavier burden? Or am I weak? Expendable? The one that won't be missed.' The truth?" Spike crossed his arms, "There is no bloody truth. There's just what you believe. If you believe that takin' this job, putting your life on the line, can do some good, then say yes. But you won't get any of the credit. You'll probably die down there without anybody even knowin' your real name. So, if you don't believe in the mission, turn around right now and walk out that door. No shame."

The girl swallowed. There was fear in her eyes, but also something else. Something deeper. "Why're you on our side?" she suddenly asked.

The corner of Spike's mouth twitched. "You must've heard the story. Fell in love, got myself a soul."

"I-It's more than that though, right?"

He tilted his head. "What makes you say that, pet?"

She chewed her lip, searching for the right words. "When I came in the office, even before I saw you, I felt this...this tug," she brought a hand to her chest, "I feel it with the other Slayers, too, but different. Not as strong."

Spike was intrigued. He knew what she was talking about. He'd felt the tug each time he met a Slayer—the two he killed and the one he didn't. He'd always chalked it up to excitement at the thought of a good scrap, but now that he was constantly surrounded by Slayers, he felt it all the time. Now it looked like it wasn't one-sided like he'd always figured. He would have to ask Buffy about it later, see if she felt it as well.

"What d'you think it is?" he asked the girl.

She shrugged. "When Mister Giles visited a while back, he told us there was a chain that connected every Slayer all through history. But maybe it's not just Slayers. Maybe the chain connects all of us, even demons. Or _some_ demons, anyway. And if that's true," she mulled it over, "then I need to do this. For all of us."

Spike didn't patronize her by asking if she was sure. He held out his hand and said with his signature smirk, "Well then, welcome to Team Buffy."

* * *

He never learned her name. Maybe he figured it'd make things easier. He was wrong.

The girl, the decoy Buffy Summers, did indeed gather her own force of underground dwellers to fight Yamanh's army. Before the final battle, she sent several pixie-like creatures to the surface to call on the Slayers for backup. Ironically, the squad in Scotland was closest. Buffy—the real Buffy—insisted on leading the battalion herself. Once the Slayers joined the fight, it was all over within moments. Yamanh was killed, and those of his fellows who didn't run were slaughtered.

It was not a one-sided victory, however. Many of those who fought on the Slayer's side were killed. The girl was among the casualties.

The surviving peaceful demons mourned her. She was a hero to them, their very own Chosen One. They asked that she be buried down there, in their world. As far as anyone above ground knew, the girl had no family. These underground creatures probably knew her better than anyone, even if they didn't know her real name. They would honor her memory the way she deserved.

"This was hers," one of the pixies fluttered over clutching a small book, "She said to give it to the pretty white-haired vampire if...if anything happened to her."

Spike mustered a weak smile as he accepted the slim volume. "Cheers."

The pixie wiped her eyes and flitted away.

Funny. Buffy had been so worried about how devastated she'd be should something happen to one of the decoys. Now it had happened, and it was Spike who was wracked with guilt. He'd looked in that girl's eyes, gave her the hard facts, knowing the whole time she would accept the mission. Maybe if it was Rona who ad asked; Rona, who _wasn't_ a living legend...

Later, alone in the bedroom he shared with Buffy, Spike pulled the book out of his duster pocket and lay back on the bed to look through it.

The first words written inside were: _The funny part about all this? I never even met her._

The girl apparently kept a journal. Most of it covered her adventures in the under-community, with the occasional reference to past experiences both before and after she became a Slayer. She never used her real name, nor did she hint that she was anyone other than Buffy Summers. She was cautious even in her writing.

Spike learned a lot about her in the hours he spent reading through her written thoughts. She was more like Buffy than anyone had realized. Her fears, her loneliness, her self-doubts. Always trying to do what was right, even at personal cost. Spike's throat tightened with the knowledge that she would never see the results of her efforts. Never know the gratitude of so many innocent beings above ground and below. She would never get the chance to start her own life, with her own name. She would never see where her life would have gone. Spike knew he was at least partly responsible for that. Now he was truly feeling the loss.

The last entry was apparently jotted down just before the battle with Yamanh. She must have realized that she might not make it. She would've been an idiot not to. But it wasn't fear or regret that went into her last written words. It was the instant when she made peace with every choice and incident that led her to that moment.

_There's always a name. Lincoln, Hitler, Gandhi. The name can inspire terror, awe, sometimes great things. But there's millions of people go into making a name. People facing things they couldn't imagine they would. In the moments that matter, even our own names are just sounds people make to tell us apart. What we are isn't that._

_ The real questions run deeper. Can I fight? Did I help? Did I do for my sisters? My comrades?_

_ There is a chain, between each and every one of us. And like the man said, you either feel its tug, or you ignore it. I tried to feel it. I tried to face the darkness like a woman and I don't need any more than that. You don't have to remember me. You don't even know who I am._

_ But I do._


	6. Chapter 6: Damaged Future pt1

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in updating. Here's a nice big chapter, followed by another chapter, to make up for the wait! :-)

I can't really take credit for the end of the last chapter. The stuff I had as being in the girl's journal was straight from the graphic novel. Really chokes me up whenever I read it, which is why I felt it should be included.

And here we get to the first part of this fanfic that crosses over with Angel. I have merged the episode "Damaged" with the BtVS comic "No Future For You" into what is hopefully a coherent whole. So, read, enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the BtVS graphic novel "No Future For You" & AtS episode "Damage.")

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Someday, you might find a way to forgive each other._

_But it won't ever be like it used to,_

_'cause that pain never really fades away."_—Faith Lehane

As head of the new Watchers Council, Giles received weekly reports from the leaders of the ten squads scattered across the planet. How they submitted these reports was up to them; most emailed, some faxed, and a few chose to phone in. Buffy was one of the latter, partly because she absolutely hated typing up reports, but mostly because it was the easiest way for her and Giles to keep in touch. After they got the official stuff out of the way, they usually spent a few minutes just chatting about this and that. It did them both good, and prevented them from drifting apart due to the hectic turn their lives had taken.

This time around, Buffy could tell there was something Giles was working himself up to telling her. There was a tension in his voice she remembered all too well from some of the dicier times in her teen years. Buffy knew the best way to get the unpleasant info out of the Watcher was to keep prattling on about nothing important until he was finally ready to spit it out. Thankfully, the less-than-patient Slayer didn't have long to wait.

_"Buffy, I have some rather unpleasant news to convey,"_ Giles began in that pompous way he reverted to when he was anxious, _"A new threat against you has been brought to my attention. I, er, delayed in telling you until I was certain the matter could be effectively dealt with."_

Buffy propped the phone's receiver against her shoulder while she busied herself with pouring a soda. She capped the bottle and shut the fridge with a bump of her hip. "So, what're we talking here?" she asked, taking a sip from the glass, "Nisanti demon? A Buski golem?"

_"A Slayer."_

Buffy coughed, dribbling soda down her chin. She hastily put the glass down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her face. "What—Huh?"

_"Her name is Lady Genevieve Savidge,"_ Giles explained, _"And according to every augur in my employ, including the Great Bearded Wizard of Northampton, unless she is terminated before Fall's end, she will usher in—"_

"Lemme guess," a sardonic Buffy interrupted, "The end of the world?"

_"I'm afraid so."_

The Slayer heaved a weary sigh. "Great. Yet another apocalypse to avert." She chewed her lip, troubled. "Are you sure we have to take this Genevieve chick out? I mean, she's one of us..."

_"I am fully cognizant of how unpleasant this situation is,"_ Giles commiserated,_ "But I assure you, if there was any other alternative, I would not even consider such a...permanent...solution."_

"Yeah. I-I know."

_ "I am already seeing to the matter,"_ Giles informed her, _"This is merely to keep you in the loop. For once, your direct action is not required."_

"That's a relief," she muttered, "So, who's the lucky assassin?"

There was a brief hesitation. _"Faith."_

A long pause. "Faith. As in the barely-reformed murderer Faith? You're asking _her_ to kill a human being?"

_"I realize how this sounds,"_ the Watcher replied in a reasonable tone, _"But she understands the risks involved and has agreed to take the assignment."_

Buffy leaned against the counter and ran a hand through her hair. "Giles, I don't wanna sound like I don't trust your judgment, but are you sure this is a good idea? From what I hear, Faith's having a hard enough time adjusting to life outside of prison. Won't this be a huge backward step for her?"

_"I offered her an 'early retirement' in return for completing this...assignment. She'll receive a generous annual stipend and safe passage to the nation of her choosing to live out the rest of her days as she sees fit."_ Giles's voice softened, _"If I didn't believe she could handle this, I never would have asked. I have already spent the past few weeks training her and I have confidence that she can accomplish this task."_

Buffy frowned slightly. "What kind of training?"

_"I am teaching her how to fit into high society,"_ Giles explained, _"Lady Genevieve is throwing a fancy dress party for her nineteenth birthday, and I am...mostly confident that Faith will be ready in time to attend the celebration."_

Buffy snorted, trying to imagine the extremely plain-spoken Faith blending in with the high-muckety-mucks of British society. "Not sure I share your confidence, Giles. But I trust you. If you think Faith can do this without goin' all hatchety-murdery again, I'm willing to take your word for it."

_"Thank you,"_ Giles responded with the right balance of warmth and sarcasm. Buffy heard him take a breath and realized he was about to lay even more bad news on her. _"There is another situation you should be made aware of. I received a call from Angel earlier today."_

"Oh." A swirl of mixed feelings came over her at the mention of her former lover. Buffy had been upset and deeply disappointed when she found out that Angel had unexpectedly become the new CEO of Wolfram & Hart's LA branch. She didn't think he'd gone evil, but the fact that he was now in bed with one of the worst demonic corporations in the world meant that she could never really trust him anymore. It saddened her, and worse, it felt like he'd betrayed her.

Giles waited patiently for Buffy to get control of herself before she dared ask, "Um, what did he call you about?"

The Watcher repeated what Angel had told him; a young woman had escaped from a mental institution after slaughtering several orderlies and guards. The woman's name was Dana. Fifteen years ago, at the age of ten, her family was brutally murdered in her home and the girl was abducted by the killer and tortured for months. She was eventually found wandering the streets, naked and bleeding. She had been catatonic ever since, until several months ago when her condition suddenly changed. She showed increasing levels of agitation accompanied by explosive outbursts of inhuman strength.

Hearing all this, Angel naturally assumed that Dana was possessed. But then a nurse showed him some videos the doctor had made of their sessions. In them, Dana ranted in a variety of languages, including Romanian, which Angel happened to understand. He said that Dana kept yelling about destiny and being chosen. And that was when he realized she wasn't possessed; she was a Slayer.

Buffy gawped. "A psycho Slayer? Holy crap!"

_"Indeed,"_ Giles drawled, _"I promised Angel that I would send the member of our group best suited to retrieve her."_

"And who would that—Oh!" Buffy exclaimed in understanding, "You wanna send Spike."

_"It's the most logical choice,"_ the Watcher reasoned, _"He has a great deal of experience at fighting Slayers. And I think it is safe to say that Dana will not be terribly cooperative."_

Buffy knew Spike should be able to hold is own. Still, she couldn't help but worry. An ordinary (so to speak) Slayer was dangerous enough, but one that was also insane might very well be damn near unstoppable.

"M-Maybe I should go with him."

_"No,"_ Giles stated in no uncertain terms, _"As far as Angel knows, you are currently in Rome. I think it's best that he continues to believe that."_

Buffy was about to argue when movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention to Spike standing in the kitchen doorway. He'd doubtless been drawn by the her emotions roiling through the link. From his expression, Buffy guessed he'd overheard enough to understand what was going on. He met her gaze and silently shook his head. Buffy also felt his resolve; he wasn't going to accept her help on this one, and no amount of arguing was gonna change his mind. Buffy's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine," she huffed into the phone, "But if anything happens to Spike I'm kickin' your ass."

_"Fair enough,"_ Giles agreed amiably, _"Give everyone my best. My love to Dawn."_

"Yeah. Bye." Buffy ended the call and looked at her boyfriend. "I guess you heard all that."

The blonde vampire nodded, a bemused smile on his face. "Just tryin' to wrap my lobes around it. A psycho Slayer."

"I know, right?" She threw up her hands in dismay. "Who could've seen that coming?"

Spike strode over and rested his hands on her waist. "Guess this means I'm on the next flight to sunny California."

Buffy placed her hands on his chest, her expression worried. "You sure you can handle it?"

"I killed two Slayers with my own hands," he pointed out with no small amount of boasting, "Think I can handle one that's gone daft in the melon."

In spite of her anxiety, an amused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That's not really what I was talking about. You sure you can handle seeing Angel?"

Spike sobered a little at the mention of his grandsire. He attempted a careless shrug. "Not lookin' for a barney, if that's what you mean."

"If 'barney' is some weird British word for fight, then yeah," Buffy flashed a brief smirk. "Just...focus on finding this Dana girl, okay? I know you have your reasons for hating Angel, but can you please put all that aside and come home in one piece? For me?"

Spike pretended to consider. "Depends. What's in it for me?"

This time, Buffy's amused smile was genuine. "Well..." she turned her eyes ceilingward in thought, "I haven't worn the cheerleader outfit in a while."

A lascivious grin stretched across the vampire's face. "That'll definitely motivate me."

"I thought it might." She pulled him into a kiss.

* * *

It didn't occur to them until they were at the airport that this would be the first time they'd been apart for any length of time since Spike was abducted by the First Evil almost a year ago. It didn't matter that the Claim would enable them to feel each other even from opposite sides of the ocean; the thought of not being together still hurt.

Spike and Buffy said a prolonged goodbye at the gate. This involved a great deal of kissing and some repressed tears on Buffy's part. It wasn't until the final boarding call sounded that they reluctantly pried themselves apart.

"I love you," Buffy managed to keep her voice steady.

"Love you, too, pet," Spike mustered an optimistic smile, "See you in a few days, yeah?"

She smiled back, "Yeah."

Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Spike forced himself to turn away and walk over to the gate. He handed the smiling attendant his ticket, gave one last parting look at the petite blonde over his shoulder, then finally boarded the plane.

The flight was uneventful. Spike whiled away the hours listening to music on the iPod Buffy gave him last Christmas and trying to get a buzz off the tiny bottles of booze provided by the flight attendants; an impossible task, given his vampiric constitution. When he finally landed at LAX he discovered that Kennedy was waiting to greet him. Kennedy was one of the original Potentials Buffy had trained and was now in charge of the squad based in San Francisco.

"Kennedy," Spike nodded, "Long time no see."

"Got a phone call from Giles," she told him, "He filled me in on the sitch. I've got twelve of my best girls here ready to back you up."

The vampire smirked. "Thanks, but I can handle one daft bird on my own."

"That's not what the backup's for," Kennedy replied.

Spike's scarred eyebrow rose, then he nodded in understanding. "They're here in case Angel decides he doesn't wanna hand the chit over."

Kennedy nodded. "He's Wolfram and Hart's new poster boy. We can't trust him."

"I never trusted the ponce," Spike's lip curled in disdain.

The Slayer handed him a cellphone. "Number's on speed dial. Gimme a call when you want me to send in the girls."

"Thanks." He pocketed the phone.

"Need a ride to the evil lair?"

"Nah," Spike nodded towards a man in a chauffeur's uniform coming towards them, "Looks like they got the transpo taken care of."

Kennedy gave a terse farewell and walked away while Spike went to meet the approaching driver.

The ride turned out to be a stretch limo. _Bloody showoffs_, Spike thought as he relaxed in the leather seat. He wondered if the windows were necro-tempered. He'd heard that Wolfram & Hart had all the windows at their LA branch refitted with necro-tempered glass for Angel's convenience. Probably gave the wanker a penthouse apartment and all the virgin's blood he could drink as well.

It'd be easy to think that Angel had been bought off with all those luxuries, but as much as Spike loathed his grandsire, he didn't believe the man had gone over to the dark side. More likely Angel convinced himself and his comrades that they were changing the system from the inside. Stupid gits. Didn't realize that if you try to change the system from the belly of the beast, you just wind up getting digested.

But this wasn't about Angel, Spike reminded himself. This was about retrieving a deranged Slayer before she killed anymore innocent bystanders and making sure she didn't wind up in Wolfram & Hart's clutches.

Spike took a gander at the limo's mini bar. He picked up one of the decanters, pulled the stopper, and got a whiff of its expensive contents. _Eh, what the hell._ He poured himself a generous drink.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity of fretful tossing and turning in a bed that felt way too roomy without Spike to share it, Buffy gave up on sleep altogether. She tossed the blankets aside with a groan, shoved her feet into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, and shuffled out of the bedroom. She wandered aimlessly down the castle's labyrinthine halls until a noise drew her towards the room being used for a gym.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one having a restless night. Buffy stifled a laugh as she watched a shirtless Xander pummeling the punching bag. It wasn't his fighting style she found amusing so much as the running commentary he rattled off between punches.

"Fear my awesome power! For lo, like Kurt Russell before me, I am a formidable eyepatch-clad opponent. And lest you think I refer to Captain Ron, let me assure you that the one-eyed character of which I speak is none other than the mighty Snake Plissken, who taught me the very ass-handing I'm about to deliver unto you!"

"Careful, Xander," Buffy teased, "Your gonna taunt that poor bag right off its chain."

"Buffy!" The startled man ducked behind the swinging bag. He peered at her with an embarrassed grin. "Sorry. Heh. Thought I had the ol' danger room booked for the whole late-night slot. So I could be alone with my, y'know, sweaty...shirtless...shame..." his voice trailed off in a pathetic mutter.

Buffy smiled and wandered over to the nearby window seat. "So, what inspired this sudden training montage?"

"Oh, uh," Xander grabbed his T-shirt from where he'd draped it over the weight machine and began to pull it on, "Renee asked if we could be sparring partners tomorrow, so I figured I should reacquaint my body with non-_Dance Dance Revolution_- related movement first."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "'Sparring partners'?"

Xander waved an admonishing finger. "Don't arch your eyebrow at me, young lady. Renee and I are just pals. Our workout sessions will be as non-physical as pugilistic-related activities can possibly..." He frowned in concern when he noticed his friend's glum expression. "Buff? You okay?"

She shrugged, her gaze fixed on the blackness outside the window. "Sure. I mean, my boyfriend's on another continent chasing down a psychotic Slayer while dealing with my possibly-evil ex, Faith's going undercover to snuff out _another_ psychotic Slayer, and Uncle Sam's declared war on us because of this whole Twilight thing I'm supposedly gonna be responsible for. Other than that, everything's great. I should be sleeping like a baby."

Xander patted her shoulder in sympathy. "Trouble in slumberland?"

"Not used to sleeping by myself anymore," she muttered, staring down at her slippers.

"I know what you mean," he sat down beside her, "After Anya and I broke up, I didn't sleep right for a month. Of course, the extreme gut-churning guilt might've also been a factor." A rueful smile twisted his mouth.

Buffy laid a comforting hand on his arm. "You can't beat yourself about it forever," she said, "Anya's forgiven you. You should move on. Take a chance. Ask Renee out, for Pete's sake!"

Her friend threw her an uncertain glance. "You think she'd say yes?"

"Are you kidding?" the blonde exclaimed, "She's been giving you moon-eyes for months! Apparently you're the only one who hasn't noticed."

Xander grinned, half embarrassed, half hopeful. "Alright. I'll ask her. Just as soon as I work up the nerve," he added under his breath.

"Good."

"Now, c'mon," her friend stood, "Let's go heat you up some warm milk and I'll see if I can bore you to sleep with a detailed description of my favorite comic books."

Chuckling, Buffy got up to follow him.

* * *

Angel was in a foul mood. He'd managed to track Dana down in an abandoned warehouse and tried to keep her occupied until W&H's security force could arrive and subdue her. Unfortunately, he underestimated the girl's abilities and would up getting thrown out of a fourth-story window. By the time the shock troops arrived, the wayward Slayer was long gone.

Gunn encountered him as they were both headed for the conference room. The muscle-turned-lawyer took in the vampire's battered appearance. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing," Angel grumbled, "Just thought I'd see what it was like to bounce off the pavement."

Gunn winced in sympathy. "Any ideas on what our next move should be to catch this wack-job?"

Angel nodded. "Wes contacted Rupert Giles. He sent in his top guy to retrieve her."

The two of them entered the conference room to find the rest of the team already seated around the oblong table.

"Angel," Wes's expression was strangely tense, "We were just about to—"

The chair nearest to the door swiveled around, revealing the casually slouched form of a platinum-blonde man in a long black leather coat. Angel's entire body tensed, his fists clenched at his sides. He hissed through his gritted teeth, "Spike."

"Spike?" Gunn's eyes widened in surprise, "_The_ Spike?"

Fred's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Who's—"

"Blondie Bear?" Harmony peeped around the door. When she saw the familiar bleached blonde, she squealed and trotted into the room. "Omigod! It _is_ you!"

"Bloody hell." Spike threw Angel an accusatory look. "You hired my ex-tumble as your secretary?"

The ditzy vampire huffed, "Uh, _assistant_, thank you very much."

"What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" Angel growled.

"Who's Spike?" Fred's voice cut in.

Wes sighed and answered, "William the Bloody. One of the worst recorded vampires in history, second only to—"

"Me." Angel glared at the other vampire. "You still haven't told me what you're doing here."

"You didn't get the memo?" Spike grinned smugly, "Hero of the people now. Got a soul. Got my girl. Saved the world—"

"Buffy's _not_ your girl," the older vampire snapped, "Last I heard she was in Rome and you were nowhere in the picture."

Spike shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Had her longer than you, anyway."

"Oh, my god!" Harmony cried, drawing everyone's startled gazes, "You and the Slayer actually... I mean, I know you had that creepy obsession about her, but... Ugh!" She grimaced in disgust. "That's just... Ugh!" She marched towards the door, paused and raised an admonishing finger, "I... Ugh!" With that, she turned and flounced out of the room.

Spike chuckled, shook his head. "Harmony. Eloquent as ever."

"Can we please return to the matter at hand?" a beleaguered Wes sighed.

Angel and Gunn seated themselves, Angel scowling at the peroxided vampire. The others were obviously curious about the history between the two—especially Fred, who was dying to learn more about this second ensouled vampire—but they all kept their questions to themselves and allowed Wes to resume his interrupted talk.

"As I was saying," the former Watcher resumed, "we were just about to bring everyone up to speed on Slayer mythology." Wes cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and began, "Eons ago, on the dark continent, three wise elders devised a way to fight back against the demons. They took a young girl and imbued her with the power of a demon. Sadly, the existence of a Slayer is often brutal and short-lived and this first Slayer—or the Primitive, as she's sometimes referred—proved no exception. However, the elders had foreseen this inevitability and devised a way for her power to live on."

"In every generation, one is chosen," Fred quoted.

Wes nodded, "Precisely. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of Potential Slayers per generation. Each of them experiencing vivid dreams, some say nightmares, of the heroics of past Slayers. But only one can be Chosen."

"Wait," Lorne interjected, "So, if there's only one Slayer, what is Little Miss Whack-Your-Head-Off doing scampering around?"

Spike answered the green-skinned demon, "A little Sunnydale surprise. 'Bout six, seven months ago, when we were fightin' the First Evil, Buffy had her wiccan gal-pal make with the mojo. One light show later, all the Potentials became Slayers."

"An army of Slayers," Wes declared, impressed, "Brilliant stratagem. But with the Watchers Council destroyed, how will these new Slayers receive their necessary training?"

"Rupert started up a new Council," the blonde vampire informed them, "We've been trackin' down the new Slayers, taking 'em to different HQ's all over the world, and givin' them all the training they need. But this Dana bird's an anomaly none of us expected. Tortured, traumatized, driven insane by god knows who."

"And then the dreams of demons and superpowers she's always had suddenly become real," Angel deduced.

Wes agreed, "The dreams of Slayers are usually just that; dreams. But Dana's mental instability may be making them seem more real."

"She's already killed half a dozen people," Angel murmured solemnly, "We need to figure out where she's going. Witnesses said she seemed to be looking for something, and when I confronted her she was in the industrial area."

"Maybe she's trying to find the place where the kidnapper held her," Gunn theorized.

"Where's this place you last saw her?" Spike asked.

Angel hesitated, reluctantly told him. Spike rose from his seat and headed for the door. "You corporates go ahead with your talky-talk. Anybody needs me, I'll be out catchin' a Slayer."

Angel jumped up and followed him into the hall. "Spike. We're the last two people that should be confronting her. She's a Slayer. She has every reason to hate us, and she's unstable. In her mind, there probably aren't any good vampires. She exists for one reason, to destroy creatures like us."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Dance of death. Eternal struggle. Right. Got it."

"You will when she's staking you in the heart," Angel declared, almost smug-sounding.

"What do you want me to do?" Spike rounded on his grandsire, "Go all boo-hoo 'cause she got tortured and driven out of her gourd? Not like we haven't done worse back in the day."

"Yeah, and it's something I'm still paying for."

"And you should let it go, mate," the younger vampire chided, "It's startin' to make you look old."

Angel glared at his grandchilde's retreating back, then returned to the conference room to hash out a plan with his team. Now that Spike was here, he was more determined than ever to bag that deranged Slayer himself, if only to show up that platinum blonde idiot.

* * *

Meanwhile, eight time zones away, the castle was bustling with activity as the majority of its residents started off the day. Buffy spent a great deal of her morning getting the latest security system set up. Thanks to the Watchers Council's impressive bankroll, the Slayer HQ was able to afford the very latest surveillance gadgetry. Everything from motion sensors to thermal imaging. The tricky part was figuring out how to get it all up and running.

Buffy threw herself into the work. It kept her mind off of Spike's continued absence and her worry over the what-ifs that could happen to him.

When they hit a snag with the new radar system, Buffy sent Renee out to fetch Willow. "Tell her I need laptop-geek Willow, not broomstick-action Willow. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The Slayer promptly marched out on her errand.

Buffy sighed, "One of these days I'm gonna send out a memo telling everybody to stop calling me ma'am. I mean, I'm still in my twenties, for cryin' out loud!"

Xander picked that moment to walk up and shove something into her hand. Buffy frowned at the paper-wrapped object. "What's this?"

"A chicken caesar wrap," the former carpenter replied, "It's almost eleven and you haven't even had breakfast."

Buffy's surprised gaze flew to the wall clock. "Wow. It's that late already?"

"Yep." Xander watched her peel back the paper and take a generous bite of the wrap. "Maybe later, if you're feelin' especially adventurous, you can try going outside. I hear there's this stuff called 'fresh air.' Supposed to be good for you. You oughta give it a try."

Buffy rolled her eyes, mumbled around her mouthful of food, "Okay, got it. I'll slow down on the whole Workaholic Girl thing."

"Just a friendly suggestion," her friend grinned.

After finishing her quick meal, Buffy wadded up the wrapper and tossed into the closest trash bin. "So," she flashed a sly grin at the eyepatched man, "You ask Renee out yet?"

"Uh... Willow!" Xander's face lit up, relieved for the interruption, "Just in time. We're in need of your technical wizardry."

"So I heard." The redhead rolled up her sleeves. "So, show me where the problem is."

After sending Xander a look that told him the discussion wasn't over, Buffy directed Willow over to the device that was giving them trouble.


	7. Chapter 7: Damaged Future pt2

**A/N:** And here's the second new chappie for the day. Enjoy!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the BtVS graphic novel "No Future For You" & AtS episode "Damage.")

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Buffy has forced our kind to be the serfs of this world,_

_when we should be lording it over the masses."_—Lady Genevieve Savidge

At the abandoned warehouse where Dana was last seen, Spike found what he needed after a quick look around. Tough as this bird was, she hadn't gotten through her scrap with Angel unscathed. There were a few drops of blood on the floor that didn't smell like the vampire's. Spike dabbed the blood with a finger, brought it up to his nose for a deep sniff. With the girl's scent in his nostrils, he began his search in earnest.

Dana had gone deeper into the industrial area. The lack of aimless turns and double-backs told Spike that she had a pretty good idea where she was going. As he followed the trail along the docks, Spike made an unpleasant discovery; the body of a man, cut to ribbons. A wedding band gleamed on the dead man's finger. Poor sod.

Leaving the corpse behind, Spike continued after the girl's trail. He left the docks behind, crossed an empty parking lot. That was when the smell of blood grew stronger. Maybe the chit was more banged-up than he thought. Quickening his pace, Spike ducked into a narrow alley where the scent was at its strongest. Within seconds he found the source; a large smear of crimson on a sheet metal wall with a few visible handprints mixed in. This wasn't incidental. The girl had left this mark deliberately. Maybe even cut herself to bait the trap. For a trap was exactly what this was.

A fist smashed into the vampire's chin without warning. Spike reeled, blocked Dana's next swing and punched her hard enough to send her stumbling back. He tried to follow through with a spin-kick, but she dodged it and reciprocated with a boot to Spike's gut. Her face was contorted with rage, streaks of blood like warpaint giving her an even more ferocious look. She yelled something in an unfamiliar language. It sounded a bit like Mandarin.

"Sorry, luv," Spike couldn't resist taunting, "I don't speak Chinese."

The two of them exchanged a flurry of blows. Just when Spike thought he might get the upper hand, Dana abruptly turned and hauled ass away from him. Spike immediately gave chase. Even though he lost sight of her, he could still follow her scent. It led him to one of the numerous derelict buildings that dotted the area. There wasn't even a lock on the door he found. Spike entered the building, descended a set of stairs into a vast basement. His movements were cautious, his night-adjusted sight wary for any signs of danger. This place was once a distillery. His nose picked up the distinctive sickly-sweet odor of molasses in the air, a byproduct of cooking whiskey. There were all kinds of old packing crates, barrels, heaps of canvas tarps, all covered in a thick layer of dust.

A hint of movement drew his attention to his quarry, standing with hunched shoulders in the shadows.

"Alright, pet," he called out in what he hoped was a non-threatening voice, "No getting away. Got your scent locked in, now. I can track you for miles."

"No escaping," the girl whispered.

"That's right, no escaping," Spike agreed. He slowly began to close the distance between them. "All the same, don't want to have to hurt you."

"Doesn't hurt if you hold still."

"Right." He frowned. The way the girl said it, it was like she was repeating someone else's words. The kidnapper's, maybe? A lie to make a terrified child obey him? Spike repressed a growl at the thought.

Dana began to pace, her eyes unfocused. Lost in her tangled thoughts. "Heart and head. Have to get home. It doesn't hurt if you hold still."

"You're a real sack of hammers, aren't you?" Spike declared pityingly. "Hey, don't worry. I used to date a girl who wasn't all there."

"Heart and head," the girl intoned, "Stab the heart, cut off the head. Only way to be sure. Keep cutting 'til you see dust."

Slayer talk. Spike considered explaining to her that she was having visions and none of it was really happening, but it sounded like she was past midnight on the crazy clock anyway, and he recalled from past experience with Drusilla that trying to reason with a lunatic was about as effective as emptying a lake with a bloody sieve.

Dana's gaze suddenly focused on him. "Please don't," she whimpered in a different voice, "I have to get home to my son. To my Robin."

"Robin?" Spike's eyebrows rose, "Oh, hey, you're talkin' about Nikki. The Slayer I offed back in—" He cut himself short when it occurred to him that telling her about his past kills might not be the smartest move. "Uh, yeah, you probably don't wanna think about that, pet."

"William the Bloody," Dana spoke in a low voice.

"No, no, no," Spike blurted, "That's not gonna lead anywhere good. You wanna focus on what's real."

All that time he had been stepping closer with the thought of overpowering the girl before she turned violent again. If he'd been a little less impulsive and thought it through, he might have realized it was exactly what she wanted.

"Head and heart. Don't be scared." Dana's foot lashed out, kicking the vampire's legs out from under him. Spike landed hard on the cement floor. If he'd been human, the fall would have knocked the wind out of him. He felt a sharp sting in his neck, managed to fling the Slayer away from him and scrambled to his feet, yanked out whatever she'd jabbed him with. It was a syringe, still mostly full of a yellowish fluid. Spike wavered as a mild wave of dizziness came over him.

"You little minx," he accused, half admiring.

"Yellows make you weak," Dana stated calmly, "Not weak anymore." She reached for the nearest packing crate and picked up a large handsaw-shaped blade. It looked like some kind of surgical equipment, probably obtained from the institution when she escaped. Spike's nostrils flared at the scent of blood on its edge.

The deranged Slayer approached him, weapon at the ready. "Don't cry. They can't hear you. Daddy's gone. He can't hear you."

Spike backed up. He didn't trust his reflexes now that the chit had managed to at least partly drug him. He needed to buy some time for the poison to work itself out of his system. "Goin' down, luv," he warned, "One way or the other."

"Piece by piece, yellow makes you weak." She slashed at him with the blade. Spike barely managed to duck out of the way and stagger back a few steps. "Brown makes you sleepy. Blue makes you shake. Red makes you freeze."

"Issat what he did to you?" Spike asked, his words slurring a little, "Tied you up, pump you fulla drugs? Then you got away, wound up in an institution where they did the same thing. Tied you up, drugged you, kept you nice 'n passive. Bloody hell, no wonder you never got any better."

Dana's breath quickened. His words were affecting her. "Can't touch me ever again," she gasped.

Spike's eyes widened. She wasn't talking about the wanker who hurt her or the hospital staff. She was saying it to _him_. "I never touched you."

The Slayer roared and lunged at him. It was all Spike could do to avoid a devastating blow from her makeshift weapon. "Stop! Stop," he retreated, holding up his hands, "You've got it wrong. Your brain's all jumbled. I never hurt you. It wasn't me."

Dana snarled.

"I've done my share of bad," Spike admitted, "but you're not one of 'em. You've got me confused with another man. Visions are mixing with your real memories, right? All stuffed in your head. Other Slayers, other places. New York, China... That's what you're remembering; other Slayers."

The girl hesitated, his words sinking in. Then her expression hardened again. "You killed them both."

A lump formed in Spike's throat. He swallowed. "That and worse. But I was never_ here_."

"It doesn't matter!" Dana screamed. Her boot swung up and clipped Spike on the chin. He dropped to the floor, stunned, and found the Slayer looming over him with her bloodied weapon raised. "Head and heart. Keep cutting 'til you see dust!"

A pair of arms suddenly grabbed her from behind and flung her away. Spike groaned upon seeing that his rescuer was none other than the Great Poof. Apparently Angel's brand of detective work paid off. As Spike got back to his feet, Angel spoke to the girl.

"Dana, look, I'm here to help you."

Spike could tell from the tone that he was laying on the puppy-dog eyes. From the scowl on Dana's face, it didn't seem to be working on her. Nevertheless, Angel soldiered on, "The man who tried to hurt you, his name is Walter Kindel. He tried to rob a liquor store five years ago, and the police shot him. He's dead, Dana. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Can't hurt me. Not weak anymore." Dana held up her hand, balled it into a fist. "Strong. Slayer."

She came at the dark-haired vampire. Angel ducked a swipe from her blade, came up behind her. He grabbed the arm wielding the weapon and wrapped his forearm around the girl's throat. "Now!"

Three suppressed _phut_s in quick succession, three tranquilizer darts driven into Dana's torso, and the girl's body sagged in Angel's arms. In the next instant the room was filled with heavily armed shock troops, Wes, and Fred. While the majority of them rushed to secure the unconscious Slayer, Fred approached Spike, who was slumped against the nearest wall. "Are you okay? We have an ambulance on standby."

The vampire smiled. He liked Fred. She reminded him a little of Tara, all kind-hearted and innocently optimistic. He wondered how long it would take Wolfram & Hart to shred those qualities out of her. "Nah, I'll be fine, pet. Just need a mo to get the wobblies out of my legs."

The slender brunette smiled, nodded, and went to rejoin the others.

Once he was sure that no one was paying him any attention, Spike casually slipped into a shadowy corner and dug out the cellphone from his duster pocket. Time to call in the backup. He hit the first number on speed dial and waited for Kennedy to answer. He didn't have to wait long.

* * *

"Ms. Tech's mystic tech support has got your radar system online and running the latest version of Linux at no extra charge, ma'am," Willow chirped as magical sparks leapt from her fingers and performed a few last tweaks to the equipment in question.

Buffy grinned from her seat on the observation platform's steps. "You, young lady, have the least egg-like egghead ever," she declared, "I'll even forgive that 'ma'am' you slipped in, 'cause you're so awesome. Hey, d'you think we should invest in some sonar, too?"

The question baffled the redhead. "Um, our castle is kind of landlocked, Buffy."

"But we've got a moat," Buffy argued, "Maybe we need something that can tell us if it's crawling with navy frogmen. Or an army of man-frogs."

Willow laughed. "I'm all for the shiny new gizmodos, but do you really think we can afford it? I mean, the Council's funds do have limits," she reasoned, "And even if we do get everything you ask for, what happens when the soldier boys actually breach our not-inexpensive defenses?"

"Well, I was thinking we could challenge them to a few rounds of Scattergories," Buffy replied, "But then I realized fighting would be way more emotionally satisfying."

A faint crease appeared between the witch's eyebrows. "You know what I mean. It's not like we can just stake these grunts in the heart, right? _Not_ killing humans is what separates us from the bad guys. And my healing spells can only repair so much, Buffy. Would you really be willing to risk going all Slayer on human beings for keeps?"

Buffy stood and began to pace. This was not something to be taken lightly. One of the first and most adamant rules she learned as a Slayer was that she should never, under any circumstances, take a human life. But would they really be able to keep to that rule while defending themselves against soldiers who had no qualms about killing Slayers?

"I honestly don't know," she finally answered, "I guess we'll cross that bridge wh—"

There was a blinding flash of light, a loud _fwoomp_, and Buffy was suddenly gone.

Everyone in the tactical center gawped at the spot where the Slayer had been a second ago. A wide-eyed Willow finally broke the stunned silence with a faint, "Did I do that?"

* * *

"—en we get to... Wha?" Buffy gaped at her new surroundings before a sudden, violent bout of nausea had her doubled over. She vomited onto the expensive hardwood floor, wiped her mouth and glared at the only other person in the room, a red-haired man holding a black leather book. "My chicken caesar wrap!" she exclaimed angrily, "Whoever you are, you are so gonna pay for that."

The man seemed unmoved by the petite blonde's ire. Buffy marched right up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You better have a kick-ass reason for bringing me here, or I'm gonna do way worse than hork all over your floor."

"As a matter of fact," the man responded in a thick Irish brogue, "the guidebook says you're about to bleed all over it as well."

Buffy scoffed, "Try again, red. It's gonna take more than a woozy tummy to put me down."

A snooty voice interjected behind her, "Have you forgotten your manners, colonist?"

_Colonist?_ Buffy turned around to see a young woman with short black hair, dressed in Japanese sparring clothes and brandishing a broadsword.

"When in the presence of royalty," the newcomer stated, "you belong on your knees!" She abruptly kicked out, her heel cracking across Buffy's jaw.

"Slayer, huh?" Buffy spat blood, "Guess they've really relaxed the admission standards if they let a rennfaire reject like you into the club."

The black-haired girl replied haughtily, "Unlike you, I'm no pretender to the throne. You're about to have the unique honor of being halved by the honourable Lady Genevieve Savidge."

Buffy figured as much. This meant that either Faith failed in her assassination attempt, or hadn't gotten around to it yet...or she'd switched sides again. Buffy really hoped that last possibility wasn't the case. Feigning ignorance, she asked in a mocking tone, "What is that, British?"

Angered by the blonde's insolence, Lady Genevieve took a swing at her with her sword. Buffy tucked and the blade whistled over her. She then lunged, her forehead connecting with the other Slayer's nose. She half expected Genevieve to start wailing like the spoiled brat she obviously was, but instead the evil Slayer grinned while blood oozed from her broken nose. "Brilliant."

Genevieve slammed the butt of her sword into Buffy's face, knocking her to the floor. "I appreciate you putting up more of a fight than the last Slayer I felled," the noblewoman declared as she raised her weapon for the killing blow.

Buffy kicked her opponent's legs out from under her and snatched the sword from the girl's slackened grip.

"That wasn't just empty bragging, was it?" Buffy growled as she stood, "You were given a gift, and you used it to hurt innocent girls?" She raised the broadsword with both hands. "Other _Slayers?_"

_"Buffy!"_ A familiar brunette dove from the tier overhead, landed on both feet, and made a desperate run towards the two combatants.

"Faith?" Buffy blurted in surprise.

Genevieve's eyes widened in shock. "'Faith'?"

Faith collided with Buffy and sent them both crashing through the window. They fell two stories and splashed into the olympic-sized swimming pool below. Unfortunately, they landed in the shallow end. Buffy stood shakily in the waist-high water and stared daggers at the other Slayer. She rasped out between heaving gasps, "So you...decided to start...your own evil Slayer club? Why am I not surprised?" With an angry shout, she drove her fist into the other woman's stomach.

"Damn, B!" Faith coughed, "Just chill and listen! I'm on your team!" That statement might have held more credence if she hadn't decided to backhand Buffy at that moment.

Buffy grabbed Faith in a headlock. "You have a hilarious way of showing it," she snarled, "I can't _believe_ I ever thought you changed!" She drew back her fist and hit Faith with a brutal uppercut. "Giles never should have trusted you!"

A roar erupted from Faith's throat. She surged forward, her hands wrapping around Buffy's neck and shoving the petite blonde under the water. The water churned as Buffy struggled, but she couldn't free herself from the other woman's grasp. As her vision tunneled from the lack of air, all she could see was Faith's wavering image, her face contorted into a rictus of the purest fury. Then, just when Buffy's screaming lungs couldn't take any more, she was suddenly yanked back to the surface. She gasped and coughed, drawing great lungfuls of air.

_"SHUT UP!"_ Faith bellowed in the blonde Slayer's face. She shoved her away. "Please, just...shut up."

"Hwuh...Wha..." Buffy wheezed.

"It's always like this," Faith's voice cracked, "Whenever you're around, _I'm _the villain. I'm never gonna be as good as you!" Her shoulders shook, and Buffy realized the wracking sounds coming from the brunette were sobs. "I wish you'd just go away..."

Faith turned away and sloshed over to the side of the pool, heaved herself out of the water and sat on the edge. Her head hung low, the wet tendrils of her hair hanging over her face. Buffy hesitated, then waded over to the dejected Slayer. "Faith," she reached a tentative hand towards her, "I-I'm..."

A shadow loomed over them, drawing both girls' attention to Lady Genevieve, her makeup smeared from crying, holding up a two-headed axe. Her accusing stare fell on Faith as she choked out, "I thought you were my friend."


	8. Chapter 8: Damaged Future pt3

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the BtVS graphic novel "No Future For You" & AtS episode "Damage.")

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Never forget how deep she cut you."_—Faith Lehane

"I let you into my home, _'Hope,'_" Genevieve spat out Faith's alias.

Faith instinctively slipped into her tough-girl persona, as if her earlier breakdown never happened. "Boo-hoo. So I gave you a fake name. Get over it, Gigi. I didn't lie about the stuff that matters, so why don't you drop the medieval times prop and talk to me like a—"

"Shut it!" Genevieve struck her across the face with the axe's handle. "You're not even English, are you? Where is that accent from, anyway? New York?" she sneered.

Faith wiped a trickle of blood from her lip. "Ouch. That hurt." She kicked the girl with all her considerable strength, sending Genevieve in a flying arc that ended with her crashing into the estate's greenhouse.

Buffy's eyebrows rose. "That was impressive."

"Thanks." Putting aside their differences for the moment, the two Slayers marched across the grounds and entered the greenhouse through the jagged hole in its side. Genevieve was already picking herself up, still clutching her battle axe.

"For the record," Faith informed the younger girl, "I'm a Boston girl. You know, like the tea party?"

"I don't care what sad little colony you crawled out of," the noblewoman hissed, "Your station in life is about equal to that of my bloody personal shopper." Her loathing gaze included Buffy as well as Faith. "You're both hardly fit to be slain by a Slayer, much less to _be_ Slayers!"

She swung her axe straight at Buffy. The petite blonde leapt straight up to avoid getting cut in half and the weapon embedded itself in a marble statue behind her. When Buffy dropped back down, she landed on the axe's handle and balanced herself on its narrow perch.

"You think we asked for this?" she retorted, her foot slamming into the girl's chin.

Genevieve dropped to her knees from the blow, then shakily regained her feet. "You're even less entitled to your power than that blow-dried princess of Wales was to hers."

She picked up a large decorative urn and flung it at Buffy. The blonde Slayer doubled over when the heavy object struck her in the stomach. While she fell to all fours and gasped for breath, Genevieve struck out with her fist and sent Faith crashing into a rosebush.

"Look, now you've gone and ruined Mother's stupid rosebush," the black-haired girl snarled, "I'll have to get Roden to grow a new one before she returns."

"If your boy wizard is such a pal, where the hell is he now?" Faith challenged.

Genevieve picked up a pair of garden shears. "He knows I can handle myself. He trusts me. He adores me!"

She flung the shears towards Faith's head. The brunette Slayer caught them in mid-air and tossed them aside. "Maybe he does, maybe he don't," Faith countered, "But either way, part of you knows something ain't right...'cause you've never deserved to be loved by anybody."

"What I deserve is...is everything that was squandered on unworthy tramps like you!" Genevieve cried as she ran full-tilt towards the woman who'd betrayed her. Tears, snot, and blood streaked her face, making her hateful snarl all the more grotesque. "Your blood is my birthright, and as soon as I've wrung the last drop out of your kind, my nightmares are going to end!"

"If you're so sick of the bad dreams..." Faith flipped her weight onto her hands and drove both heels into the approaching Slayer's midsection, "..then wake the fuck up!"

Genevieve's body flew across the greenhouse...straight into the two-sided axe blade still embedded in the statue.

"No..." Faith gasped. She ran to the fallen Slayer and knelt at her side. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so sorry. I never meant—"

"Yeah," Genevieve's weak voice interrupted, "But it's like the song goes..." A final gurgle escaped her throat, and then she was gone.

Faith fell back on her heels and lowered her head as she openly wept for the dead girl. Buffy shuffled over, still clutching her sore stomach. She gingerly knelt down beside the crying brunette and touched her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Faith."

"I just..." Faith sniffled, "I wanted to help her."

Buffy understood. She was beginning to understand a lot, now.

"Hell."

Both women turned their heads to see Roden, the Irish warlock, levitate into view. "Looks like I backed the wrong filly," he declared with a humorless grin.

* * *

Angel strode out of the abandoned distillery at the head of a procession of armed security. Dana was wheeled out on a gurney, sedated and strapped down.

"Chain her into the van," Angel commanded, "I want armed guards riding with her in the back."

Spike unexpectedly stepped into their path, bringing the group to a halt. "That's all right, boys. I'll take it from here."

Angel's heavy brow lowered in a frown. "What?"

"Appreciated the help," Spike drawled with no small sense of irony, "but you lot have got enough problems of your own to worry about."

The older vampire scoffed impatiently, "Get out of the way, Spike."

He and his men started to maneuver around the blonde vampire, but Spike moved over to black them again. "She's a Slayer," he stated calmly, "That means she's ours."

Angel leaned towards him, and Spike saw his nostrils twitch at the familiar scent that clung to the younger vampire. But as Spike figured, his grandsire chose to ignore his senses and live in the land of denial; preferring to believe that Buffy really was in Rome instead of with the platinum blonde still. Angel stated in a contemptuous tone that would have pissed Buffy off if she'd heard it, "Yeah, sorry. Not how it works." Once again, he directed the procession around the other vamp. "Load her up. Don't hesitate to tranq her if she so much as—"

"I don't think you heard me, Peaches." Spike let out a piercing whistle. A moment later, a dozen girls ranging in age from late teens to mid-twenties strode into view. They arrayed themselves behind Spike, their stances relaxed and confident. Kennedy herself stood just behind Spike's right shoulder, hands on hips, her eyes practically daring the opposing side to try something. The W&H shock troops wore various expressions of confusion, utterly clueless to just how dangerous these seemingly harmless-looking girls really were. But Angel knew. His vampiric senses fairly screamed _Slayers!_

Spike flashed a contemptuous grin at his grandsire. "Think we're just gonna let you take her back to your evil stronghold?"

"She's psychotic," Angel stated haughtily, "and I'm not turning her over to you."

"Not givin' you a choice. Take a look around, gramps," he indicated the girls behind him, "I got twelve Slayers behind me, and not one of 'em has ever dated you." He smirked. "She's comin' with us, one way or another."

Angel crossed his arms and smirked condescendingly at the younger vampire. "You're way out of your league. I'll just clear this with Buffy."

Spike threw back his head and laughed. "Who d'you think's callin' the shots, genius?" he chuckled. Spike relished how the smarmy look slipped from the other vampire's face. "Here's a newsflash: nobody in our camp trusts you anymore. _Nobody._ Gotta appreciate the delicious irony," Spike grinned, "You workin' for Wolfram and Hart, the baddest of the bads, while I'm runnin' with the White Hats. Now, are you gonna hand the chit over, or do my girls get some exercise?"

Kennedy cracked her knuckles for emphasis.

A muscle in Angel's jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. Finally, he growled to his men, "Let them take her."

The guards stepped aside and four of the Slayers approached the gurney. Each gripped a corner of the frame and wheeled the gurney away until they disappeared into the surrounding dark. Spike tilted an imaginary hat at Angel and company. "Been a pleasure. Ta."

And with that, he and the remaining Slayers turned their backs and strode away, vanishing into the night. Only when the Wolfram & Hart group was out of sight did Spike allow his triumphant smile to fade. Throughout the confrontation with his grandsire, he'd felt Buffy's heated emotions through the Claim. She was going through one hell of an adventure of her own, and it killed him not to be able to face the current danger with her.

_I'm comin' home, luv._ He knew she wouldn't pick up the words—the link they shared wasn't a telepathic one—but she would sense the feelings his thoughts conveyed and understand enough. _Just a few more hours, and then I'll be with you. Right where I belong._

He felt her response; love and relief with a touch of anxiousness that urged him to hurry. Spike was determined to return as quickly as possible, whatever it took.

* * *

Roden waved a hand and bands of light wrapped around both Slayers, restraining them.

"My orders were to train the Slayer to end all Slayers. To stop the coming of the Twilight," he said in his thick Irish brogue, "Genevieve was just a dead end." He sauntered over to Faith and smiled down at her. "You, on the other hand, may be exactly the bird I'm looking for."

"Not if you were the last warm body left," she growled.

"Even though you and I could make Buffy disappear forever?"

Faith blinked. "Huh?"

A gesture from Roden made her magical bindings vanish. "I saw the look in your eyes when you and Summers were going at it," he glanced at Buffy, still bound by his spell, "I know you'll never be happy so long as she's around."

"Faith, don't listen to him," Buffy anxiously called out, "He's—" A magical gag suddenly appeared over her mouth.

The warlock's smile was as persuasive as his words as he continued to speak to Faith, "Lucky for you, I have the key to destroying the blonde-headed bane of your existence. Not just killing her, 'cause we both know that won't keep her down, but wiping her existence from the face of the earth." He held up the book he'd been carrying. Stamped onto the lower right corner of the cover, barely visible against the black leather, was a small emblem. A circle with several hook-shaped barbs jutting out from it, like rays on a crudely drawn sun. "The guidebook will show us how."

Roden offered the book to the brunette Slayer. Faith tentatively accepted it, a little smile working its way across her face. "Thanks," she whacked the heavy tome across his face, "But I ain't much of a reader!"

Blood fountained from the warlock's nose. When he turned his head back towards her, Faith saw his eyes turn pitch black and dark veins spiderweb across his skin. "Keep it, anyway, luv. I already know how it ends."

He made a throwing motion towards Faith and a massive stone hand erupted from the ground beneath her feet. It scooped Faith into its grasp before she could jump to safety. Buffy tried to struggle free so she could help the other Slayer, but the magical restraints were too much for even her enhanced strength.

"Lord, nothing sadder than an over-the-hill Slayer," a disgusted Roden proclaimed while the stone fist slowly crushed the life out of her, "Girls like you are supposed to shuffle off this mortal coil when you're young and fresh, not when you're starting to sag a bit."

Despite the considerable pain she was in, Faith started to grin.

The warlock scowled in confusion, unaware of the silent figure creeping up behind him. "The hell are you smiling about?"

Giles drive the garden shears into the Irishman's back. Roden screamed, the distraction from the unexpected pain causing both the stone hand and Buffy's restraints to disappear. Faith collapsed in a wheezing heap. Buffy hurried to check on her.

Roden spun around and sneered at Giles. "Well, if it isn't the kennel master." He struck the Watcher with a bolt of magic, then reached behind him to pull the shears from his back. "They're all gonna die, you know," he said, flinging the garden shears away, "Every last one of your bitches."

"Giles!" Buffy picked up the book and threw it to the Watcher. "Think fast!"

Giles caught the book, flipped it open to the right page on his first try, and quickly read the chant aloud, _"Vriik nisanti hrn!"_

The warlock cackled, "You desperate old git! Did you honestly just try to use one of my own containment spells against me. I can break out of any mystic field ever enchanted."

"I know," Giles replied, voice deadly calm, "That's why I put one inside you."

Roden's black eyes bugged out as his flesh began to grotesquely warp and expand. With a final scream, his head burst like a balloon, spattering blood and brains in a ten-foot radius. His body dropped to the ground with a muted thud.

Buffy and Faith stared at the gory mess. "Eww." "Yeah, that's...yuck."

As Buffy started to help the other Slayer to her feet, a flash of light enveloped her and she was gone in a loud poof of shimmering smoke. The next thing she knew, she was back in the castle's ops room, surrounded by concerned Slayers and Willow.

"Oh, thank goddess," the redhead gushed in relief, "I've been trying to get a lock on your astral signature, but something kept blocking me. I accidentally teleported a Norwegian truck driver and two marmosets trying. Then Giles called and he told me he needed a forcefield taken down and—"

Her babbling was interrupted by Buffy suddenly heaving the meager contents of her stomach. "Gah! Teleporting really doesn't agree with me," the Slayer grunted, wiping her lips with a trembling hand. "Get me Giles on the phone. He's probably worried sick since I got zapped out of there right in front of him."

While the other Slayers scrambled to obey her order, Buffy made her way to the closest vacant chair and lowered herself into it with a groan.

* * *

In the end, Faith turned down Giles's offer for an early retirement. Her experience with Genevieve, heart-wrenching though it was, brought home to her the fact that there would be other Slayers out there who needed help. Needed someone who understood their situation and help walk them back from the brink, before they wound up like Gigi.

Giles thought that was an excellent idea, and Buffy agreed. Her confrontation with Faith forced her to consider her own actions towards the once evil Slayer. Buffy said she forgave Faith for all the wrongs she committed back in Sunnydale, but now she admitted to herself that it wasn't really true. She didn't forgive Faith, and that was hypocritical of her, because Spike had wronged her and her friends at least as much as Faith had, yet Buffy didn't hold any of those past deeds against him. If she could forgive Spike, why couldn't she forgive Faith?

Because in the beginning she'd trusted Faith. Counted her as a friend. And Faith had betrayed her. But now Buffy understood that she was betraying Faith by always expecting the worst of her instead of helping the Slayer put her life back together. It wasn't right. Buffy had to figure out a way to let go of her grudge and start rebuilding the trust. For both their sakes.

Which was why, when Dana was sent to the headquarters in London, Buffy recommended to Giles that he have Faith assist him in the girl's care. The Watcher was already working on a way to keep Dana secured without resorting to drugs or restraints, except as a last resort. Dana might never get better, but hopefully, under the care of people who actually wanted to _help_ her instead of just keep her under control, her suffering might lessen in time.

* * *

Spike didn't act any different when he returned home, but Buffy knew he'd been affected by what went down in LA. She sensed it even before he got off the plane, but when she flung her arms around him in a welcoming hug, he squeezed her back with way more force than he normally would. Almost like he forgot for a second that she needed to breathe. Buffy didn't say anything. She waited patiently until they could be alone, which these days meant the few hours they were lucky enough to collapse into bed together.

It was reassuringly quiet in their room. The lamp on Buffy's nightstand cast a warm yellow glow and a pleasant breeze from the open window stirred the curtains. Spike lay on his side of the bed with one arm flung over his head, the other draped across his stomach. He was wearing an old T-shirt and sweatpants, which was highly out of character for him. Spike tended to dislike wearing anything when he slept; it stifled him. Buffy knew if he was wearing something now, it was because he needed to feel cocooned.

Buffy toed off her slippers and sat down on her side of the bed, right foot tucked under her left knee. Her green-hazel eyes regarded the vampire, whose blue gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. "Do you wanna tell me?" she asked in barely more than a whisper.

Spike let out a long, unnecessary exhale, then scooted until he was sitting up with his back to the headboard. He stared down at his hands resting loosely on his lap and murmured, "The lass thought I killed her family."

Buffy frowned a little, not sure why it got to him. He'd been accused of a lot worse. Had _done_ a lot worse in his time. But he'd moved on from all that, or so she thought.

"She was delusional," Buffy stated the obvious.

"Sure," Spike grunted, "And I'm supposed to, what, complain 'cause hers wasn't one of the hundreds of families I _did_ kill?" His brow furrowed as he searched for the words to explain. "For a demon, I never gave that much thought about the nature of evil. Just threw myself in," he shrugged, "Thought it was a party. I liked the rush. I liked the crunch. Never did look back at the victims."

Buffy considered that. "For Angelus," she hesitated for a second on the hated name, "I guess it was all about the evil. It was art to him. I think he probably would've considered Dana a masterpiece."

_ Came a long way,_ she thought ruefully. Buffy used to believe that evil was evil, plain and simple. But now, thanks to the two vampires who'd barreled their way into her life, she realized that there were varying degrees of evil. Spike, for all his horrific actions, never came anywhere close to Angelus's malevolence. He just didn't have it in him.

"What happens to the girl now?" Spike wondered.

Buffy chewed her lip. "I dunno. Giles is... He's gonna do his best to help her."

"She's too far gone to help," the vampire stated with sad finality, "She's what I used to be, now. She's a monster."

"She's an innocent victim."

Spike reached out and twined the fingers of his left hand with hers, finally lifted his gaze to meet her softly caring eyes. "So was I, once upon a time."


	9. Chapter 9: Anywhere But Here

**A/N:** Here's another chapter! Not a lot of action in it, more like exposition, but it's got a nice explosion at the end. I'll try to update again sometime this weekend. 'Til then, to my American readers: HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_My grip on reality is not that grippy."_—Buffy Summers

Buffy fervently wished she was anywhere but here. Sure, the view was nice. She just preferred to have more between her and the ground than mere air.

"Come on!" Willow cajoled, "We're flying!"

Clinging to the witch's back, Buffy shouted in a higher-than-normal pitch, "_You're_ flying! I'm _dangling!_"

"But you're badass, Buffy. You slay! You jump out of helicopters!"

"They're lower down," she argued, "Why can't we teleport, again? Or hitch?"

"Because I'm not positive where it is." Willow's eyes scanned the crazy-quilt scenery far below them.

The two of them were on their way to consult with an ancient demon named Sephrilian. Anya had put them on to him when no amount of research was able to dig up anything on this mysterious Twilight the bad guys kept mentioning. Sephrilian was Tichajt, a creature able to walk in the human world and in places beyond. This enabled him to see all of reality, know things no one else did. If anyone had answers as to what the Twilight was, it was him. If they could get the demon to cooperate, that is.

"We're close, though. I'm gonna bring us down a bit."

Buffy sighed in relief. "That's bett— Not better!" her voice rose in panic as the witch went into a steep dive, _"Less better!"_ She squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the spinning landscape and prayed her breakfast didn't make a reappearance.

"Are we there yet?" she whined a few minutes later.

Willow abruptly switched their bodies' orientation from horizontal to vertical. Buffy slid off her back and discovered they were no longer airborne when she thudded to the ground ass-first. Willow's landing was more graceful. "We are there yet."

Buffy threw her friend a dirty look as she picked herself up and dusted off the back of her jeans. She looked around, saw they were somewhere in the country. A small cottage stood about twenty yards away from them. It was a little worse for wear; at the very least it could use a fresh coat of paint.

"_This_ is the lair of Sephrilian?" she asked incredulously, "It's not the guest lair, or something? I thought he was a big noise."

"Sephrilian walks between worlds," Willow replied, "Reality tends to buckle around those guys."

"So, what, it's bigger on the inside?"

The redhead shrugged. "That'd be my guess."

There was a plump woman seated on a wicker chair in the cottage's front lawn. Her hair was long and black, her feet were bare, and she was wearing a lavender frock patterned with lighter-colored flowers. A bowl of fruit and a pitcher of lemonade rested on a small table beside her.

"Who's that?" Buffy pointed.

"I think she's the Minder," Willow replied.

"'Minder'? Did Giles tell us lots of stuff while I dozed?"

Her friend smiled patiently. "Any unstable reality field is potentially dangerous, even cataclysmic, and someone has to watch over it."

The woman stood as they approached. Close up, Buffy saw that her eyes were almond-shaped, revealing some Asian ancestry in her family tree. The woman smiled and offered her hand. "Hi. I'm Robin."

Buffy and Willow shook hands and introduced themselves. Willow's gaze kept shifting towards the innocuous-looking house. "He's in there," she shivered, "I can feel him thrashing."

"Believe me, so can I," the Minder stated in a wry voice, "He's not in a very good mood."

In Buffy's experience, demons were rarely in a good mood.

"You know the rules, right?" Robin asked, "No big mojo in the field. Even if things get dicey."

Buffy cracked her knuckles. "If things get dicey, I get slay-ey. But that's not what we came for."

Willow nodded agreement. "We're just here to talk."

Robin sighed, "There's a chance you'll wish you hadn't." She blinked and placed a soft hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Oh, that was gloomy. I didn't mean to be gloomy. The important thing is that you rescue the princess." Robin frowned. "Or maybe the princess rescues you. I get it mixed up."

Buffy eyed her warily. "Um... Yeah?"

"Even I don't follow that one," Willow muttered.

The Minder smiled at their befuddlement. "No, it follows you. Good luck!"

As the pair approached the cottage, Buffy glanced over her shoulder and saw Robin cheerfully waving at them. "So, 'minding' an unstable reality means containing it, right? Means time and logic and everything's just bendy in the brain," she turned to the witch for confirmation, "Am I right?"

Willow grinned. "See? Giles _said_ you were awake sometimes."

Buffy shook her head in sympathy. "That's gotta be a little wearing, standing brain-guard twenty-four/seven. Who signs up for _that_ gig?"

"You don't volunteer to be a Minder, Buffy," Willow informed her, "You get Chosen."

Just like Slayers. Buffy now felt a sense of kinship with the strange woman.

She half expected the cottage's wooden door to make an ominous creak when opened, but there was just a faint click from the latch. Bracing themselves, the witch and the Slayer stepped into the dark interior. The door swung shut behind them. _Click._

It really was bigger on the inside. In fact, it seemed limitless. Too bad it was mostly pitch dark, although there was a weak, sourceless light shining down on the winding staircase that tapered off to a point in the distance. "You know what I love?" Buffy grumbled after what felt like hours of descending, "A staircase with no end at all. Aren't there any escalators to Hell?"

Willow chuckled, "I think that'd defeat the whole purpose, Buffy. Hell isn't supposed to be convenient."

"No, of course not," the petite blonde groused, "Demons are after us, the humans are after us, this whole Twilight thing is looking very creepy, and now it looks like we're gonna be climbing down these stairs 'til we're both gray and wrinkly."

Willow patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about this trip. I got your back."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes more, then Buffy suggested, "Let's play a game."

* * *

"You can open 'em now, Bit."

Dawn uncovered her eyes and gasped, "Oh, my... Wow!" She clapped her hands in delight. "How did you do this?"

Spike grinned from his perch atop the massive suitcase, re-sized to Dawn's proportions. "We got a couple of real comers in the wiccan squad," he said, "Figured 'til Willow can get you back to Niblet-size, we could at least give you a few extra outfits to wear. A few people pointed out you've been wearin' the same clothes since you got embiggened."

Dawn snorted, though her broad smile didn't fade. "What? Did my proportionate stench tip them off?"

The vampire chuckled and adjusted his sunglasses. While his pale skin no longer had any adverse reactions to the sun, his eyes were still rather sensitive. A consequence of spending over 120 years in the dark, he supposed.

"Please let my boots be in here..." Dawn eagerly opened the case. Spike hastily jumped back to avoid falling in. He balanced nimbly on the edge of the lid until it stopped moving, then sat down and let his feet dangle. Dawn cooed over the neatly folded clothing; blouses, camis, slacks, jeans. She snatched up a pair of rolled socks and pressed them to her nose. "Oh, blessed sockies," she inhaled, her expression blissful, "You still have dryer smell!"

The vampire allowed himself a smug grin. "So, my efforts get the thumbs up?" he prompted.

"You are frikkin' Santa, Spike," the giant teen declared. She began rummaging through the suitcase to see what else had been enlarged for her convenience when her fingers brushed against a hard corner. Curious, she got a grip on whatever the item was and unearthed it from the mound of clothes. Her joyous expression slipped when she saw what she was holding.

Spike cocked his head. "Well, look at that." He gazed down at the framed picture of Dawn and a handsome young man with perfectly styled blonde hair. "Hello, Kenny."

* * *

Buffy stood in an elaborate ballgown, a gorgeous man to either side of her.

"The baron suspects us. We need a distraction." She turned to the clean-shaven, suit wearing man to her right, "_Little Women_ Christian Bale, you and I will waltz obscenely close in plain view, while _Reign of Fire_ Christian Bale," and now she addressed the ruggedly handsome bearded man to her left, "saddles the horses. It's a hard ride across the moors, and then we're just one hot-air balloon ride from freedom!"

Willow's laugh caused the imaginary scene to dissolve. Buffy found herself once again on the Endless Stairway to Nowhere.

"That was a good one," the redhead complimented, "Even better than me trapped in a blizzard with television's Tina Fey."

"Thanks. But we haven't even gotten to the good part y—Ooh! A bridge!" The Slayer beamed at the wooden structure ahead of them. "Yay, a break in the monotony!"

"Speaking of breaking," Willow cast a doubtful eye over the rickety suspension bridge, "What's that thing made out of? Matchsticks?"

Buffy twisted around to gaze at the miles of stairs behind them. "At this point, I'm willing to risk it."

With cautious steps, the two women began to cross. The bridge creaked under their weight, but gave no signs of breaking. Just as they reached the halfway point, a huge taloned claw swept down from the darkness and splintered the wooden boards. The girls cried out in alarm and grabbed hold of each other, but Willow discovered her ability to fly didn't work in this dimension. Fortunately, the ground wasn't as far below them as they'd feared. They tumbled through a dense fog and crashed onto a hard surface that knocked the wind out of them.

Buffy groaned, "You okay, Will?"

"Yeah," her friend winced, "I'm spine."

_**"You dare!"**_

Both women gaped as a gigantic creature loomed over them. Its appearance was hard to describe; there were claws and scales, leathery wings, a gaping mouth full of jagged teeth. A long, sinuous appendage like a tail curved above its misshapen body. Its flared end gripped what looked like a windowpane, of all things, divided into four squares. In each square was an image of a face, each with its own color and expression. There was a yellow snarling face, a blue smiling face, a red sad face, and an orange frightened face.

Buffy muttered in her friend's ear, "Sephrilian?"

Willow nodded.

_**"You reek of lies!"**_

Buffy blinked in confusion. "We haven't, uh, said anything yet."

_**"I have heard it already, Slayer!"**_ Gobs of spittle flew from the demon's maw. Buffy fought down the urge to gag.

"Well, for those of us who are all wacky and linear, I'm gonna say it anyway. The truth," she took a steadying breath, "We need your help."

"Do you know why we're here?" Willow asked.

_**"Twilight,"**_ Sephrilian rumbled, _**"Your fear is obnoxiously sweet."**_

"Do you know what it is?" the witch demanded, "What it means?"

A hideous cackle erupted from the demon's throat. _**"What does it mean? The end, of course."**_

A chill ran down Buffy's spine.

* * *

Dawn sat cross-legged in the castle's courtyard, staring at the photo in her hands. "It's all my fault."

Spike leapt down from the lid of the suitcase and seated himself on the girl's knee. "Not your fault, Platelet," he tried to console, "Only thing less trustworthy than a Thricewise is a guy. You had natural...er...person...urges..." He squirmed uncomfortably. "And this pillock took advantage."

"No," Dawn's voice quavered, "It's not that simple."

Spike looked at her, his head tilted in that way he did when he was seeing something others tended to overlook. "Howzat, Niblet?"

She set the picture aside and buried her face in her hands. "I didn't sleep with Kenny," she said between muffled sobs, "I slept with his roommate!"

Spike was glad the teen wasn't looking at him, because he doubted he could have hidden his disappointment from her right away. As a bloke who'd spent over a century with a woman who habitually cheated on him, his sympathies were more biased towards the jilted Kenny. Luckily, Dawn's bout of crying gave him time to school his expression.

He hopped down from his perch on her knee when he felt Dawn start to shift her position. The girl drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

"What happened, Bit?" Spike kept his tone gentle.

Dawn sniffled, chewed her lip. "I'd been dating Kenny for about two months, and it was really good. Kenny was sweet, and romantic, and he didn't push... Then there was this house party, and I saw his roommate, Nick, and..." she heaved a guilt-ridden sigh, "There was talk, and then less talk, and I'm a skank. Kenny was heartbroken when he found out, and now I'm _acres_ of skank, and it's just what I deserve."

Spike listened to the whole rushed story without interrupting. His expression remained neutral, which seemed to encourage Dawn to keep talking.

"I thought I'd be able to tell Willow," she admitted, "But...how do you explain something like that?"

Mouth twisted in an ironic smile, Spike asked, "This Nick bloke, he somethin' of a bad boy?"

"Y-Yeah." Dawn nodded, her wide eyes and tear-streaked face making her look even younger.

"Cigarettes, dirty hair, didn't care what anyone thought," the vampire continued, well aware that he was giving a pretty accurate description of himself, "Never gave you the bloody time of day, but seemed in pain deep down?"

"Yeah-huh."

Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets. "And for the big money... He play in a band?"

"Bass. Vocals," Dawn mumbled, "I'm a satan."

Spike's laugh startled her from her self-reproach.

"Dawn, enough." He raised a forestalling hand. "Only thing you're really guilty of is bein' a cliché. That's it. I mean, you ever see the first ponce Buffy slept with in college?"

"Riley?"

A loud snort. "She bloody wishes! Trust me, Niblet, sleepin' with the wrong guy's not even in the top fifty of the worst evil things you could've done. Hell, from what I hear, it's practially a sodding rite of passage for college kids! And on the positive side," he grinned, "now we have a real lead on whatever mojo Kenny might've used."

Dawn's hopeful smile faltered a bit. "Um, you won't tell Buffy, will you?"

"Not my story to tell," he assured her. "But I do appreciate you sharin' it with me. Makes me feel all special."

"Maybe your just wheedly," Dawn teased.

"I'm _specially_ wheedly," Spike retorted, glad to see the girl's spirits already lifting.

* * *

"Wh-What do you mean the end?" an anxious Willow called out, "The end of what? The world?"

_**"The end of the struggle," **_ Sephrilian roared, _**"The final triumph of the Balance over the Light and the Dark. When the Twilight comes, there will be no more apocalypses. No more champions. No more prophesies or destinies. The scales will be fixed in place and stability will reign."**_

Buffy shook her head in dismay. "Why would the soldiers be afraid of that? It sounds like a good thing."

The demon screeched an insane laugh. _**"Foolish girl! You still do not comprehend. The struggle is not about good or evil," **_the creature's voice deepened portentously, _**"It is about power."**_

Of course. It always came down to power; one side trying to dominate the other. And it wasn't just the Dark trying to put one over on the Light. Buffy remembered the Initiative, human beings who nearly brought about the world's destruction when they created Adam. Their original motive wasn't to conquer, but to keep the world safe from the very same dangers Buffy herself fought.

No more apocalypses. Yeah. Buffy could definitely get behind that.

_**"Your thoughts are simplistic,"**_ the demon spat in disgust, _**"You see the end you hope for, but think nothing of the cost! Would you like to see, Slayer?"**_ Sephrilian's tail-like appendage loomed over the two women. The square panels folded back like flower petals and a blinding light poured out. _**"Take a look!"**_

Buffy and Willow cringed, hands flying up to shield their eyes. When the light finally faded and the spots cleared from their vision, they tentatively lowered their arms took in their surroundings.

They stood in the center of a huge circular chamber, the ceiling above rising in a high dome. A series of arched openings followed the room's circumference. Buffy squinted, but couldn't make out anything through those openings except pitch blackness. The floor was shrouded in a thick mist. It billowed over their heads at times, making it difficult to see any details of this strange room.

"So, how's it going?"

Both women jumped at the unexpected voice and turned to find Robin standing behind them. The Minder gazed around, her expression turned somber. "Oh. I didn't think he'd show you this."

"What is this place?" Buffy asked.

Willow followed with, "Has this happened yet?"

The fog suddenly receded, revealing a waist-high platform at the chamber's exact center. It appeared to be made from a single, giant slab of dark gray granite. Its flat surface bore a larger version of the symbol Buffy had seen embossed on Roden's spellbook; a circle with a jagged outer edge, all in black. Something lay on top of the platform, partially obscuring the symbol.

Willow gasped, "Buffy..."

Buffy stared at a duplicate of herself lying spread-eagle on the platform, shirt torn open, another circle-symbol carved into the flesh of her stomach. The crimson blood was startling against the rest of the vision's muted colors.

"What...What happens to me here?" Buffy stammered in a hoarse whisper.

Robin turned her head away. "Betrayal. The closest, the most unexpected."

The blonde shook her head. Her doppelganger was silently weeping. "Who—"

"I have to be outside, now," the Minder interjected, "You're about to cause a disruption."

Before either Buffy or Willow could utter a protest, Robin abruptly vanished. The fog rolled in again, thicker than before, obscuring the disturbing imagery from their view. Sephrilian reared up from the mist like a breaching whale.

_**"The war has already begun,"**_ the creature roared, _**"I welcome it! I would be rid of your kind and the abomination you would bring. I know your weaknesses, and soon all my brethren will as well."**_

Buffy scowled up at the loathsome demon. This was something she could handle. She glanced at the witch beside her. "Hail Mary."

Willow raised a hand crackling with magical energy. Buffy ran towards the giant demon, leapt up onto its broad, lashing tail. A bolt of greenish light from Willow, and a mystical blade appeared in Buffy's grasp. She swung the glowing weapon down in a single blow, severing the thick tail from Sephrilian's body. The demon shrieked as the glass panes with its colored faces shattered on the ground. Its lifeforce had been contained in those faces, and with their destruction, Sephrilian's lifeless body toppled.

Buffy managed to jump clear before the massive corpse crashed to the ground. She landed with a triumphant, "Touchdown!"

"Buffy, the magic," Willow shouted in warning, "This place is gonna—"

The loss of stability in the pocket-dimension that was once Sephrilian's lair resulted in a catastrophic explosion. Willow was able to shield herself and Buffy from the worst of it, but the force of the explosion still flung them several hundred feet away from the disintegrating cottage. Robin stood fast, her expression calm despite the violent wind whipping her hair and dress around her. As the Slayer and the witch rolled to a bruising halt, the Minder focused her power on restoring the reality field. For a moment, the explosion seemed to freeze, then it reversed itself. All the flying debris pulled itself back together until the plain-looking cottage stood once again.

"I can't believe you contained that whole surge!" Willow exclaimed as she and Buffy picked themselves up. The redhead looked sheepish. "Sorry about the mojo abuse."

Robin laughed and waved off the witch's apology. "No, no. The field's stable now!" she beamed, "You guys bought me some time off 'til I'm reassigned. I'm really grateful."

"Glad we could accidentally help," Buffy responded with an ironic smirk, "Um, do you remember being in there? What we saw?"

The Minder shook her head. "I'm sorry. If I projected a remnant in there, it went when the field closed down. But I imagine it wasn't something fun."

"No," Buffy said quietly, thinking of the vision of herself on the sacrificial slab, the betrayal Sephrilian predicted.

A light touch on her arm shook her from her reverie. She mustered a smile as Willow squeezed her arm in reassurance. "It was demons," Willow stated firmly, "Playing games."

Buffy nodded, though neither one of them really believed it.


	10. Chapter 10: A Beautiful Sunset

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Once upon a time...I did something good."_—Buffy Summers

Giles once told Buffy that saving the world meant keeping the status quo. But apocalypses came because the world was trying to change. Nature abhorred stagnation, so change was an inevitable part of life. That either meant chaos, and the morons chaos inevitably employed, or it meant moving forward to something better. And Buffy did that. She found a way to share her power with girls all over the world. Not just strength, but purpose. Meaning. Connection. But it was up to them to decide how they were going to use it.

Buffy stared at the main video screen in command central, watching security footage obtained from a military armory in Italy. The slightly grainy video depicted half a dozen young women ripping through weapons crates like greedy kids on Christmas. Sprawled on the floor were a couple of unconscious men in guard uniforms. At least Buffy _hoped_ they were only unconscious.

The leader of this smash-and-grab paused to leer at the camera, one hand raised with forefinger and pinky extended in a "hail Satan." Her other hand gripped an automatic weapon, and she was wearing a bandoleer loaded with hand grenades. Her hair, what little she hadn't shaved off, was dyed a garish pink, and numerous piercings adorned her face.

"Her name's Simone Doffler," Xander's voice announced from behind Buffy's shoulder, "Came up with the Chicago squad 'til Rona shipped her over to Andrew in Italy. Thought a less urban environment might soften her 'rough edges.'"

Spike entered the room in time to hear that last part, carrying two steaming coffee mugs. He let out a derisive snort, "Sounds like passin' the buck to me."

Buffy absently took the mug Spike handed her and took a sip of hot coffee. "Those other girls Andrew's as well?" she asked.

"One of them," Xander replied, "The others we haven't I.D.'ed. I've contacted the squads and no one's run off. If they're Slayers, they're not ours."

"Guns," Buffy muttered darkly. Slayers _never_ used guns. It was more than just tradition; bystanders tended to get hurt, or worse, when firearms came into play. Blades were just as effective against demons, and easier to control. As Spike once quipped, "You never hear about a drive-by skewering on the telly."

Xander's expression was uncharacteristically grim. "This is bad for us, Buffy. Andrew's wiccans wiped the guards' memories, but anybody finds out a Slayer's packing boom-sticks—forget about what she's planning to use them for—and your Twilight bunch is gonna go ape-feces."

"Yeah, the good folk who think we're not human," Buffy sighed, "They're gonna love it when we start acting like we _are_." She stared down at the coffee mug cradled in her hands. She wished Willow was there to offer sisterly comfort, but after their unpleasant encounter with Sephrilian, the redhead flew straight to São Paulo for some much-needed quality time with Tara. She probably wouldn't be back for at least a week.

Spike, seated in an office chair beside her, took a drink from his own mug. He licked the reddish droplets that clung to his lips. "So we find the bint," he stated with certainty, "She peeps that little mohawk out, we'll play whack-a-mole. _Before_ she starts something."

Buffy didn't share his confidence. "Don't give her so much credit, Spike. I started this. I made her what she is."

"You made her a _Slayer_," Spike argued, "That's all. This slag was gun-happy to begin with."

"Spike's right," Xander nodded, "Simone's got a rap sheet as long as my arm. And that was _before_ she was Called. We did everything we could to help her out, but she just didn't wanna be saved. She made her choice, Buffy."

The blonde sighed, "Doesn't matter. Those army guys are gonna use her as their prime example of why Slayers should be wiped out." Buffy rubbed her eyes, set her empty coffee mug down on a nearby table, and stood. "So," she exhaled, willfully changing the subject, "any other pressing items?"

Xander grinned, his remaining eye twinkled. "Well, I was saving this for your birthday," he began in a coy tone, "But...we did locate a vamp nest."

Buffy visibly brightened at this. "Oh, goody! It's been ages. Do I need a squad?"

"I'd bring a date." Xander glanced at Spike.

The vampire walked over and linked his arm with Buffy's. "Back to the basics, then, luv?"

"You know it," she grinned, and for a moment her earlier anxiety was pushed aside.

The three of them exited the ops room and strolled down the hallway towards one of the castle's larger chambers which was set aside as a rec room. "I'm thinkin' we'll head out in the morning," Buffy suggested.

Loud music blasted out when Xander opened the door. "Probably not _too_ early," the former carpenter recommended. He, Buffy, and Spike stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the rec room. It looked like just about every Slayer was there, all wearing their flashiest clothes and dancing to the upbeat songs blaring from the huge stereo system set up in the corner.

Buffy was surprised to see Dawn lounging amongst the dancers. Probably teleported in by the wiccas. Some of the girls were standing on her folded legs or on her shoulders. A couple of them were comfortably seated in her outstretched hand. In Dawn's other hand was a beer keg with its top peeled back to create a crude drinking cup.

"Is my little sister getting drunk down there?" Buffy asked, smiling in spite of her stern tone.

Spike draped an arm around her shoulders. "Relax, luv. D'you know how much a chit her size would have to drink to get remotely shitfaced?"

"Besides," Xander added with a shrug, "she's of legal age in Scotland. And also...'little'?"

Buffy watched her sister talking and laughing with the two girls sitting in her hand. "She seems happier, like a weight's been lifted."

Spike feigned ignorance. "Really? Guess I didn't notice."

Buffy wasn't fooled. She knew something had happened between Spike and Dawn recently, but she didn't pry.

"This was a good call, Xan. The party," she rested her forearms on the bannister as she watched the Slayers unwind, "They needed it."

"You gonna join 'em?" her friend asked, "Get on the dance floor?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "I don't know..."

"Come on, show them how it was done back in the day," Xander wheedled.

She snorted, "Which day was that?"

Xander gazed upward in thought. "I think it was a Thursday. You wore blue." His expression sobered. "Seriously, Buff, you need to take a break from the whole leadership thing. Have fun for a change."

Spike took her by the arm. "C'mon, pet," he tugged her towards the stairs, "Let's show these posers how it's done."

"Spike," she groaned, "Come on, I don't..." Despite her protests, Buffy offered little resistance as he dragged her down the stairs and onto the dance floor.

Spike held her close as he began to move them to the music's beat. He threw himself into the dance with the same abandon as he did with fighting. Feral, graceful, completely unselfconscious. Buffy couldn't help but respond, and soon she was dancing with the carefree joy she used to have when partying at The Bronze, back in Sunnydale. For a moment Spike was taken back to the first time he ever saw her; arms held up, hips swaying, face alight with a brilliant smile. Only this time the vampire was able to do what he'd wanted from the start.

Buffy squeaked in surprise when Spike abruptly scooped her up in his arms and practically ran for the hall leading to their room. "I thought you wanted us to have some fun," she laughed.

Spike's answering grin could only be described as sultry. "Oh, we're definitely havin' fun, Slayer. Just as soon as I get us alone."

Buffy's giggles were cut off by the slamming of their bedroom door.

* * *

She was still smiling early the next morning as she vaulted across the rooftops of the little Scottish town where the vamp nest had been spotted. With a graceful leap, she somersaulted down from the last building and landed feet-first with an easy flex of her knees. A moment later, Spike hurtled down after her. Unfortunately, the spot of ground he landed on wasn't quite as solid. Thick mud splashed up from the impact of his boots and spattered all over his jeans and the lower half of his duster. "Bollocks!"

Buffy laughed at his thunderous scowl. "Careful, honey. Scotland's slippery, y'know." She reached up to wipe a splotch of mud from his cheek. "You okay?"

Spike _hmph_ed, "Will be as soon as we start the dustin'. Where the hell's this nest?"

The Slayer pointed towards the cemetery a short distance away. "Scouts said they're holed up in one of the older crypts."

Buffy readied her Scythe while Spike unsheathed a short sword from his belt and gripped a stake in his other hand. The couple made their way through the seemingly deserted rows of graves, ready for anything. It was far too early for mourners to visit; the horizon barely glowed from the dawn's approach. Spike and Buffy could have waited until daylight to take out the nest, but they were eager for a good fight. It had been too long since they'd done something as simple as patrol together, and it put them in kind of a nostalgic mood.

Spike felt the tension through the link; Buffy's Slayer sense had picked up the presence of vampires. They were close. They rounded a tall memorial and there they vamps were, heading into an ancient crypt to sleep away the day. The creatures hissed the second they noticed the couple and launched themselves at the intruders.

Spike beheaded a female vampire in a hideous pink tracksuit, turned and staked an oncoming bald vamp.

Buffy took out three vampires in quick succession with her Scythe. A fourth turned tail and ran, but Buffy threw the Scythe like a spear and impaled the retreating vampire. Now that she didn't have her weapon, the largest member of the nest—and apparently the leader—lunged for her.

"Need a little help, luv?" Spike asked as he dusted his last opponent.

"Think I can't handle this guy myself?" Buffy challenged. She dodged a kick from the heavily muscled vamp and punched his square jaw, which only seemed to piss him off.

Spike casually leaned against a tombstone, resting the flat of his short sword on his shoulder. "Oh, I know you can handle him. Just thought I'd offer. I hear that's what thoughtful blokes do for their ladies," he smirked.

Buffy flashed him a wry grin. "Aren't you the sweetest thing ever?"

The vampire roared in a thick Scottish accent, "The sweetest thing will be your bloo—"

"Please! We were talking," Buffy scolded. She punctuated her statement with a swift uppercut.

Spike chuckled and dug out a pack of smokes from his coat pocket. As he lit up a cigarette, the Scottish vamp grabbed hold of Buffy and flung her onto an above-ground sarcophagus. "Now, girl, you will feel the wrath of—"

The Slayer rolled her eyes at the creature's dramatics. "God! Nobody cares about your wrath!"

Buffy kicked out with both feet. Her boots connected with the vampire's chest with enough force to send him flying straight up and into the path of the rising sun's first rays. The vamp instantly burst into flames. Within seconds, he was only dust which floated away on the breeze.

Spike blew out a plume of smoke and sauntered over to Buffy as she was bending down to retrieve the Scythe. "Well," he remarked, "that was a bit of alright."

Buffy smiled. "Yeah. Nothing like a good rough-and-tumble."

They walked hand-in-hand back to where they'd parked the car they had taken from the castle's motor pool. They chatted while Spike drove, but as the distance to the castle lessened, Buffy became more silent. The weight of responsibility, worry, and guilt that had been momentarily forgotten once again bore down on her slender shoulders.

Spike sighed in frustration. He wanted to find some way to snap Buffy out of her grim mood, but he'd gotten pretty good at reading her since the Claim and he knew this was one of the times when she needed to work everything out in her head before she was ready to confide on the things that were bothering her. The best thing Spike could do for her right now was bite his tongue and wait.

Buffy felt his frustration and concern, of course. It was hard not to let it add to her sense of guilt, but if she did that it would only upset him, which would make her feel worse, and so on in a vicious cycle of depression that would drag them both down. Funny how knowing someone else's emotional health was at stake was a great motivator for not feeling too sorry for yourself. Buffy smiled a little at the thought and leaned over to rest her head on Spike's shoulder. She felt him relax slightly at this trusting gesture. He withdrew his left hand from the steering wheel and slipped his arm around Buffy's shoulders. And that was how they spent the rest of the drive home.

* * *

Buffy and Xander stood on the parapet, watching Spike lead the Slayers-in-training through their evening drills.

"So, how'd the de-nesting go this morning?" her friend asked.

"Fine," Buffy muttered.

Xander quirked an eyebrow. "So, you wanna tell me what's got you down in the dumps, then?"

She hesitated, then finally gave in and voiced the thought that had been gnawing at her for some time, "_Are_ we doing any good? We've been fighting more demons, but...but it just seems like there's more demons to fight! And, what, is that because of us? Because of _me?_" She turned to her closest friend, let him see the deep-seated worry in her eyes. "Did I screw up the balance by activating all these Slayers? Did I just make things worse?"

Buffy was surprised to see a peaceful smile appear on Xander's face. "Buffy, turn around."

She obeyed and looked out on the practice field yet again. Girls sparring with each other, laughing and encouraging, while Spike strode among them, shouting instructions or offering quiet advice. The fiery red-orange glow of sunset washed over them all, giving the scene an even more beautifully fierce appearance.

"I live with a bunch of Slayers," Xander stated in a sincere voice Buffy never heard him use before, "Dozens of girls who are so _filled up_ with purpose, with confidence they didn't have before. The walls are vibrating with it." He laughed, "I can't sleep, the place is so charged!"

Buffy glanced at him sidelong, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You really need to ask Renee out already."

"Stop changing the subject to true things," her friend admonished. "Maybe now we're only cleaning up messes, but we're just getting started. What you've created here is a lot more than just monster fighters. It's...you know, a, uh..." he fumbled for the right word.

"Connection," Buffy murmured. "Why can't I feel it?"

Xander rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe you don't get to. Maybe the leader, the girl who brings it all together, is the one that has to give that up."

"Yeah." Buffy gazed down on what she'd created and finally, hopefully, smiled. "Yay me."


	11. Chapter 11: Wolves at the Gate pt1

**A/N:** Be Warned! This chapter starts out a bit hot and heavy. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_The future is bright."_—Toru

Buffy discovered one of the advantages of living in a castle soon after settling into Slayer HQ Scotland: thick walls. Not only were they great for protection from any attacks that might occur, but they also meant that Buffy didn't have to hold back some of her louder vocalizations when she and Spike were having one of their...private moments.

"Oh, god...oh, god..." Buffy's fingers dug into the vampire's scalp as his lips and tongue worked their sinful magic between her legs. The louder her cries got, the more enthusiastic his actions became. It was a good thing he didn't need to breathe, otherwise Buffy's legs tightening around his head would've smothered him.

"Spike! _Spike!_" A high-pitched squeal escaped her throat. Spike once jokingly referred to it as her "shoe sale noise." But he loved that sound, as well as the accompanying surge of pleasure that vibrated through the link. When her muscles started to relax, Spike kissed his way up her body until he reached her trembling lips. Buffy moaned into the kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. She offered no resistance as Spike pinned her arms above her head. He gripped her wrists with one hand, the other reaching down to guide his aching member to her waiting center. Without warning, he surged into her, burying himself to the hilt. Buffy grunted at the almost violent intrusion. If she'd been normal, there might've been some pain, but her Slayer strength could handle much more than that.

Her body arched as Spike began pounding into her. It had shocked Buffy, early in their relationship, when she discovered that she actually liked it rough. It scared her a little, made her wonder if there was something wrong with her. At times the need to be taken and dominated was overwhelming. Dominated by _him_. By Spike, her equal. Because she trusted him, and because she needed it as more and more responsibilities weighed her down. She needed these wanton moments to let herself be completely vulnerable, so when she left the haven of their room her burdens didn't seem quite so heavy.

"Tell me you want me," Spike practically snarled while his hips relentlessly crashed into hers.

Buffy forced out between gasps, "I w-want you."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you...so much..."

"That's my girl." He adjusted his grip on her wrists so that their fingers intertwined. Bones ground together as his features shifted and reformed. His lips peeled back from his deadly fangs.

Buffy turned her head aside without hesitation, bearing the scar of her Claim mark to him. "Yes! Please, now!"

With a feral growl, Spike lunged and sank his fangs into her neck. Buffy shrieked, not from pain, but from sheer ecstasy. Her own teeth bit down on the matching scar on Spike's neck. The link between them whited out from the intensity of their shared climax.

When Buffy's vision cleared she found herself trapped beneath the weight of a limp and very exhausted vampire. He was panting just as heavily as her. This unnecessary reflex made her smile. She slid her hands out from his loosened grasp and ran them over the muscles of his back. His skin was a little warmer than usual, thanks to her shared body heat. There was even a slight dampness that brought a self-satisfied grin to Buffy's lips. It took a lot to make a vampire sweat.

"Wow," she murmured once she finally caught her breath, "That was...that was...wow."

Spike managed a weak chuckle. "Yeah. 'That was wow' pretty well covers it." He lifted his head and gazed down at her heavy-lidded green eyes. He gently brushed away a few strands of hair that stuck her her sweat-dampened brow. He didn't need to ask if she wanted him to roll off of her; he sensed from the link how much she enjoyed his weight on her.

_Safe...Protected...Loved._

A tiny smudge of Spike's blood still clung to Buffy's lower lip. Spike leaned down to kiss her, enjoying the faint coppery taste. Buffy hummed and tangled her fingers in his already mussed hair. The longer they kissed, the more their previously tired bodies began to rouse once again. Spike's length, still inside her, began to harden and swell. He pushed into her, a light flex of his hips, not quite a full thrust. Buffy's own hips lifted slightly in encouragement.

"Love you," Spike whispered against her lips, "Buffy..."

Then came a click of the door opening, and an unwelcome voice announced, "Okay, probably nothing to worry about, but there seems to be a wolf and/or panther situation I should bring to your—"

_"Xander!"_ Buffy shouted in alarm. She shoved her boyfriend off and hastily yanked the bed covers up to her chin.

Xander's horrified gasp was almost as loud as his exclaim of, "Oh, merciful Zeus!"

Spike sat up in bed and glared at the interloper. He didn't even bother to cover himself. "Bloody hell, Harris! Didn't your mum ever teach you to knock before bargin' into people's sodding bedrooms?"

Xander hastily slapped a hand over his single eye. "I-I-I was distracted by the wolves and asking Renee out a-and ah...oh, god. My eye. My burning, beautiful eye!"

Buffy perked up. "You asked Renee out?"

"So, what's the verdict?" The Slayer in question strode into the room. "Are we supposed to sound the alarm or—oh, my god!" Renee covered her face with both hands. "Xander! I thought we had the all clear to come in. Why the hell didn't you warn me?"

"Would somebody _please shut the door!_" Buffy made a clumsy grab for her bathrobe and ended up tumbling onto the floor.

"And while you're at it, get the hell out," Spike added, still unconcerned with his nakedness. He was mostly irritated by the fact that this incident meant that Buffy would be too mortified to resume their earlier activities.

"Great idea." Xander grabbed Renee's arm and rushed them both towards the door. Before they reached it however, a huge face suddenly loomed into view outside the window.

"Buffy," Dawn complained, "I was sleeping in the barn, but now it's all filled with bees and—_Oh, my god!_"

"Dawn!" Buffy finally managed to wriggle into her bathrobe and tie it shut.

Spike hastily draped a blanket over himself, unwilling to show his goods to the teenaged girl. He threw his head back in exasperation. "For fuck's sake! Doesn't anybody in this bloody castle know how respect people's privacy?"

"If you wanted privacy, then why'd you leave the curtains open, dummy?" Dawn retorted.

"Would everybody just leave already?" Buffy cried.

"Oh, why bother? Let's just invite a few other people in," Spike grumbled sarcastically, "The more the bloody merrier."

Something crashed through the ceiling, raining rubble down over the bedroom. Buffy jumped back on the bed the second it happened, therefore avoiding a nasty head-bump from some of the larger chunks. When she heard groaning, she peered over the side to discover a familiar redhead sprawled amongst the debris. "Willow!"

"Ow." The witch slowly pushed herself up from the floor. There were scrapes and bruises, a trickle of blood from her nose, but no serious injuries that were visible.

"Oh, my god! Are you okay?" Buffy exclaimed, "What happened?"

"I-I was flying back from Brazil," Willow shakily explained, "a-and somebody grabbed me... I think we're under attack."

Spike got out of bed, grabbed a pair of jeans, and put them on. His expression had gone from annoyed to grim. "Where exactly are these wolves?" he asked the still-gawping Xander.

* * *

Out in the halls, chaos ruled. The Slayers seemed to be battling everything from wolves to panthers, bee swarms to bats, and even clouds of mist. So far, the girls were holding their own, but it was little more than a stalemate since nothing they attempted ever inflicted harm on their enemies. Every time they tried, the invaders always transformed into something else.

Spike and the others joined the fray. Spike wore nothing but his jeans and carried a sword he'd taken down from the wall of their bedroom. Xander and Renee had also borrowed weapons from Buffy and Spike. Buffy, however, remained unarmed. As pissed off as she was, she probably could've taken on a whole army of vamps barehanded. She marched down the corridor in a hastily donned set of pajamas. Ignoring the hallway battle, she headed straight for the armory. The reinforced steel door was wide open and there were a couple of figures inside. They were too tall and broad-shouldered to be Slayers. As Buffy neared, her senses told her they were vampires. She entered the armory in time to see the shorter of the two take the Scythe down from its wall mount.

"Okay, I try to be Miss Share-and-Share-Alike," Buffy stated, "But I _really_ don't like it when people touch my stuff."

The vamps turned to face her, revealing that they were in fact Asian. _Definitely not locals_, Buffy thought. The shorter vampire glanced at the Scythe in his hand, slowly reached over and lightly tapped a fingertip to the handle, then shrugged with an oh-well expression.

Buffy decked him hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor. She spun towards the other vamp in time to see him transform into a growling black panther. Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Did your friend just turn into a kitty?"

The vampire she'd hit quickly jumped to his feet and backhanded her. Before she could pick herself up, she saw him place the Scythe in the panther's jaws. The cat dashed out of the armory with its prize. The vamp smirked down at Buffy and gave a little wave of his hand. "Bye, now."

His body blurred, then vanished in a puff of mist.

"Okay," Buffy stared, "That's new."

Out in the hall, Spike noticed the panther running off with the Scythe and gave chase. He followed the big cat all the way to the nearest window where the beast crashed through without hesitation. Spike skidded to a halt, saw a levitating woman with a top hat and blue-dyed hair grab the Scythe from the panther's mouth just before the creature dissolved into fog. With a triumphant cackle, the woman held up the Slayer weapon and flew off into the night.

Spike's shoulders slumped. "Oh, balls..."

* * *

The rest of the attackers cleared out shortly thereafter. There were some casualties on the Slayers' side, but fortunately no fatalities. Buffy called an immediate meeting of all the able bodies once the wounded were seen to. They all gathered in the command center where images of the vamps were taken from the security footage and shown on the large central screen.

"I'm not saying it makes sense," Buffy began, "But a vampire punched me and then turned into fog."

Xander nodded. "We got similar reports from the front lines."

"Yah," Leah, the Irish Slayer, agreed, "Definite transmogrification abilities.

Rowena spoke up, "Saw 'em flit between wolves, panthers, even bees."

"How is that allowed?" Buffy exclaimed, "They're _vampires_. Did I miss a meeting or something?" She turned to Xander. "And they took the Scythe. The _Scythe_ Scythe! _My _Scythe!"

Willow, pressing an icepack to her aching head, declared, "That can't be a coincidence. Th-They must know about the spell."

Xander tried to stave off impending panic. "Yes, granted, that counts as bad. But we'll track 'em down. I mean, how many Japanese vampire goth gangs can there possibly be out there?"

"Are we even sure they _are_ vampires?" Willow queried, "I mean, when was the last time we saw a vampire turn into a swarm of bees?"

Spike, who'd been mulling the incident over with growing suspicion, answered the witch, "Well, think about it, Red." He slowly walked towards a particular Scooby. "When's the last time we saw a vamp turn into a wolf, or a bat, or fog..."

The others' gazes followed him as the vampire came to a halt in front of Xander. Buffy's and Willow's eyes widened in understanding. The blonde vampire lifted a scarred eyebrow at the puzzled man.

"What?" Xander blurted, "Why's everybody staring at—"

"Come off it, Harris," Spike scoffed, "We all know you've been pen pals with the poofter since Buffy ran him outta Sunnydale. Though I can't bloody fathom why you'd wanna keep in touch with a ponce like that."

"Who the hell are you...oh." Xander's shoulders drooped. "Aw, crap."

"Who are you talking about?" Renee asked. The rest of the Slayers were equally baffled.

"Dracula," Buffy informed them.

_"Dracula?"_ one of the other Slayers blurted, "Like..._the_ Dracula?"

"The one and only," Buffy stated wryly, "He paid a visit to our hometown a few years back. Tried to kill me, as a matter of fact. And he put Xander under a thrall. But for some reason, him and Xand actually hit it off and became friends." She walked up to the shamefaced man, her expression stern. "I tolerated you writing to the guy, as long as you didn't tell him anything that could hurt us. But if he's involved with this attack, even peripherally, I need to know. And if he's not, I need him to tell me how to fight these goth vamps."

Xander sighed in resignation. "Okay. I know where he's staying right now. I'll take a chopper out to his place."

"Better take a chaperone," Spike advised, "In case you wind up under the bugger's thrall again."

"I'll go," Renee volunteered. Xander didn't look too thrilled at this, but didn't argue.

"Fine," Buffy replied tersely. "While you two deal with the Count, the rest of us'll focus on tracking down that gang of vampires."

Xander nodded and reluctantly left for the hangar with Renee at his side.

* * *

While Xander and Renee went to pay an awkward visit to the legendary Transylvanian, the rest of Slayer HQ remained busy frantically trying to track down the Asian vamps. Everyone had already changed into their day clothes by the time the command center's computers got a hit. A Slayer named Bethany relayed the information to Buffy.

"Vampire sect in Tokyo's been making waves in the demon underground. They're known for going all wolfy when the mood strikes 'em." Bethany walked over to the main monitor and started tapping away at the keyboard situated in front of it. "Their leader's name is Toru. He matches the description of the guy you tangled with in the armory."

"We didn't tangle," Buffy muttered, "He ran away before we could tangle. He's an untangler."

Bethany's mouth twitched, her only reaction to her leader's petulance. "My point, ma'am, is that he sounds like our guy."

Spike, dressed in everything but his duster, crossed his arms. "Who found the bugger?"

"Aiko," the Slayer replied, "One of ours. Assigned to field ops in Japan."

"I want to talk to her," Buffy declared.

Bethany nodded. "Figured as much." With one last click of the keyboard, a young Asian woman's face appeared on the large main screen. Judging from the graininess of the image, and the way it tilted slightly, she was communicating with them via a handheld device.

Her almond eyes widened in amazement at the sight of the legendary Buffy Summers. _"Wow! It's really you!"_

"Yep, it's really me," Buffy agreed wryly. "How'd you get the intel?"

_"Oh, you know..."_ The view shifted from Aiko's face to what appeared to be the interior of a restaurant. Splintered furniture and cracked saki bottles littered the floor. There were also the bodies half a dozen massive reptilian demons with elaborately painted faces. Most were dead, or at least mortally wounded, although Buffy glimpsed one huddled in a corner sobbing. _"I asked around."_

Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Are those kabuki demons?"

_"They _were_ kabuki demons,"_ Aiko replied smugly.

"Those things are vicious."

_"You're telling me,"_ the Slayer's grinning face reappeared on the monitor, _"I think one actually scratched me!"_

Spike chuckled; he liked this girl.

"You got a location on these vamps?" Buffy asked.

_"Yep."_

"Good. Keep surveillance, but _do not_ approach. I'm serious about this, Aiko," Buffy warned, "You wait for us. We'll be in touch."

Aiko nodded. _"Got it."_

Buffy pressed the button to end communication, then turned to her best trained fighter. "Satsu, prep the others. I want our team suited for transpo in less than an hour."

"How many girls you want to bring?" Satsu queried.

"All of them."

The young Asian Slayer looked doubtful. "You sure that's a good idea? We should probably leave behind a squad as a safeguard."

Spike turned his stern gaze on the girl. "She gave you an order, Slayer. It's not up for discussion."

Chastised, Satsu lowered her eyes. "Yes, sir."

Buffy turned her attention to Willow. "Have we heard from Xander?"

The witch shook her head. "I've been trying him. He's not responding."

Buffy frowned in concern. "You think he's in trouble?"

"Well..."

"Nothin' we can do about it now," Spike interjected, keeping his voice low so the other girls didn't overhear, "Focus on one mission at a time, luv. Rescuin' Harris can wait 'til we get the Scythe back."

The petite blonde's lips compressed into a thin line. She breathed slowly out through her nose and nodded. "You're right," she reluctantly agreed, "Let's get moving."

They had to charter a cargo plane in order to move all the Slayers and their weapons at once. The girls sat in their utilitarian seats, talking quietly amongst themselves, reading, listening to music, or napping. Buffy was the only one standing, a lone figure at the front of the cargo area, her expression almost somber as she ran through all the possible scenarios they would have to deal with once they reached Japan.

Spike, by contrast, seemed perfectly relaxed as he slouched in his seat, head tipped back against the padded headrest, eyes closed. Only the fact that he was still breathing betrayed the fact that he was still awake. Satsu was in the last seat to his left, the last seat in the row. He was aware of the shift in her posture every time she sneaked a glance towards Buffy.

"Here's the thing."

Satsu jumped at the unexpected sound of the Spike's voice. She flushed in embarrassment, realizing that she hadn't been as subtle as she'd thought if the snoozing vamp had noticed.

Spike opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to regard her. "She's not like you. The other Slayers," he clarified, "She's the general and you're the army. That's never gonna change. She's got the weight of the world on those slender shoulders of hers, and that means you'll never really be able to understand her." The vampire smirked. "Also, she's not battin' for the other team, so I wouldn't be gettin' my hopes up if I were you."

Satsu scrunched down in her seat, blushing furiously. "I-I don't...I m-mean I wouldn't—"

"Relax, pet," Spike chuckled, "I'm not gonna begrudge you for havin' good taste."

The girl seemed a little less flustered when she straightened and met Spike's blue gaze. "I know I wouldn't have a shot at her, even if she was...into girls," she chewed her lip, "It's good, y'know, that she's got you. I'm glad she doesn't have to be lonely on top of everything else."

The vampire's smile softened at her sincere words. He turned to regard Buffy, standing apart, but not alone. Never alone. He touched her through the link and felt her answer, like an invisible handclasp. Strong and secure, and grateful.


	12. Chapter 12: Wolves at the Gate pt2

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Nobody steals from Dracula."_—Count Dracula

They were expected. The vamps had left them a welcoming banner...of sorts.

A huge crowd was gathered beneath the gruesome sight of Aiko's lifeless body tethered spread-eagle to the side of a tall building. Written underneath her was a series of smeared red kanji symbols.

"That's her blood, isn't it," Buffy murmured, eyes riveted to the horrible scene.

Beside her, Spike nodded.

"What does the writing say?" she asked.

It was Satsu who answered. To her credit, her voice hardly even cracked. "'Welcome to Tokyo.'"

Buffy's expression became stony. "Help me cut her down."

They wrapped Aiko's body in a white cloth somebody found, then Buffy picked the body up and turned to address Willow. "Help the girls get their gear organized. I'm going ahead," she glanced down at her burden, "Taking Aiko back to her squad."

The redhead nodded solemnly. Buffy turned away and began the long walk to Japan's Slayer HQ. She could have taken a car, but the thought of stuffing Aiko's body into the backseat of a rental just seemed disrespectful. So she walked, staring grimly ahead.

Spike wordlessly followed two steps behind her, alert for the slightest hint of a threat. He felt Buffy's anguish and self-reproach, and wished he could do something to comfort her. But she wasn't ready to accept comfort just yet. All Spike could do was remain by her side until she was ready.

The Slayer HQ in Japan was located in what used to be an ancient noble's estate, miles from the city. It even had a protective wall surrounding the grounds. The gates swung open when the girls standing guard saw Buffy and Spike approach. The young Slayers-in-training were devastated when they realized whose body Buffy carried. The Slayer didn't say a word to anyone; just carried Aiko to the estate's small temple and laid her down at the altar in front of the statue of Buddha.

Spike watched as she sat down in a corner, knees drawn up, and buried her face in her arms. After a while, when he sensed she was ready to accept his comfort, he went to join her in her sad vigil. He put his arms around her and gently coaxed her into leaning against him. Buffy pressed her face to his chest, her tears wetting his T-shirt.

"It's my fault," her muffled whisper reached Spike's keen ears.

"No, luv," he kissed her hair, "Aiko's a casualty of war. One _they_ started.."

"They never would've even come after Aiko if I hadn't made her a Slayer," Buffy insisted, "This is all happening because of the spell. That's why they took the Scythe. That's why she's dead." She drew back to gaze at the swathed body on the altar. "Maybe...Maybe I was wrong to activate the Slayers. Maybe the world can't contain them all."

Spike abruptly gripped her shoulders hard enough to force her attention onto him. "I don't believe that for one bloody second," a low growl edged his voice, "Things are rough now. World's gotta make a lot of adjustments. But in time it'll be all the better for havin' more than just one lonely Slayer to fight its battles." He shook her the slightest bit for emphasis. "You...did...the right...thing. Don't ever bloody doubt it, 'cause the second you do," he nodded towards the altar, "then her death's meaningless."

Buffy sniffed, wiped her streaming eyes. "I still feel as if I failed her."

"I know." Spike pulled her into another comforting hug.

That was how Willow found them some time later as evening was setting in. She and the rest of the squad had already arrived hours ago and settled into the guest rooms set aside for them. The witch's eyes were sympathetic as she stared down at the couple. "How long are you gonna stay up here?"

Buffy sighed and reluctantly extricated herself from Spike's arms. "Just 'til I figure out what to do next," she replied. She got to her feet and shivered a little when a breeze swept through the temple's open windows. Spike immediately took off his duster and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled at his gallant gesture.

"We have to get our hands on one of these vampires somehow," she declared.

Willow looked doubtful. "Yeah. Easy to say and so forth..."

"There _has_ to be a way."

"Well," the redhead bit her lip in thought, "assuming we can even locate them—"

"You saw how they strung up the girl," Spike remarked, "Not exactly goin' low profile here."

Willow shrugged. "Then it's just a matter of getting one of 'em to hold still."

"Which is hard to do when they can turn into fog," Buffy grumbled.

A thickly accented European voice cut in, "I'm assuming you've considered using Carolina's Grasp."

All three pairs of eyes turned towards the dapper figure of Dracula. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal gray suit and top hat that would have been more appropriate in Queen Victoria's time. In his left hand was an ornate walking cane, and perched on his nose was a pair of pince-nez sunglasses (utterly useless since it was night).

"I mean, you're not _complete_ idiots, are you?"

"Oh, good. It's you," Spike snorted. Pretentious sod.

"And Xander!" Willow cried happily.

Xander hobbled towards them, arms loaded down with a matching set of luggage. "Okay," he wheezed, "Almost there."

"Who's grasping Carolina's what now?" Buffy asked.

The Count sighed impatiently. "It's a rudimentary containment spell. Do you still have a witch in your employ?"

Willow held up her hand. "I'm standing right here."

"Ah, yes," Dracula regarded her over the rims of his totally unnecessary glasses, "I should have recognized your acrid stench."

Willow's eyes widened. She tried to surreptitiously sniff herself as the Count continued, "Go get two grams of crimson powder, a sprig of dwarfwhistle, and some sea salt. I'll teach you the incantation as soon as _someone_," he turned his glare onto Buffy, "removes her nighties from the master bedroom."

Spike bristled. "Now wait just one sodding min—"

"I need to get my coffin installed," the older vampire breezed on, "The sun should be up before long."

Buffy looked at him like he was an idiot. "It's eight P.M."

The Count drew back in surprise. "Is it? I've never understood time zones," he muttered.

As the ancient vampire drifted away, Xander staggered over, still carrying the load of suitcases. "Hi, guys," he panted.

"You look terrible," Buffy remarked, not without sympathy.

"It's been a long flight." Xander leaned closer to whisper confidentially, "He doesn't travel well."

"Which begs the question, what the sodding hell is he doing here?" Spike growled. He glowered at the subject of his long-term grudge match as the Count surveyed the temple's interior with a haughty air.

Xander gave them a brief explanation of how Dracula actually lost the secrets of his transmogrification abilities while gambling for a motorcycle. Apparently the incident involved copious amounts of rubbing alcohol in a Tibetan speakeasy and a crooked game of pai gow.

"He's...kinda been going through a rough patch," the eyepatched man said apologetically.

"Oh, and also..." They all turned to discover Dracula leaning over Aiko's body. "Is somebody going to finish eating this?"

* * *

It was late at night. The streets were nearly empty. A solitary man in ripped jeans and a black leather jacket leaned against a lamppost and lit up a cigarette. Suddenly, a girl's cries reached his ears. "Help me! Please, somebody help me!"

The man looked up and smirked at the sight of a young woman in a schoolgirl's uniform running towards him. Her hair was cut almost boyishly short, and her skin was a pretty shade of nut brown.

"What's the matter, little one?"

"Oh, thank god! You speak English!" the schoolgirl gushed and trotted up to him. "Please help me. I don't know where I am."

In a surprising act of chivalry, the man removed his jacket and helped her slip it on against the night's chill. "Where are you headed?"

"M-My parochial school was on a field trip to Shinjuku and I wandered off looking for the Bathing Ape store..." As she prattled on, the man subtly led her away from the well lit street towards a nearby darkened park. "...and now I don't know how to get back to my hotel because all the street signs in Japan are in _Japanese_ for some reason!"

"Alright, calm down," the man soothed, "I'll get you where you need to go."

The girl gave him a hopeful smile. "Really?"

"Of course. Here...Why don't we cut through the park."

"Thank god you came along when you did!" the girl placed a hand over her heaving chest, "I was so lost and frightened!"

High up amid the concealment of the trees' branches, Spike bit back a snort of laughter at Renee's high-pitched porn star voice. In a neighboring tree, he saw Buffy mouth the words _stop it_. She tried to glare at him, but his mirth threatened to set her off as well and it was all she could do to keep her expression passably serious.

Below them, their quarry put a seemingly protective arm around Renee's shoulders and told her, "Well, you have to be careful." He suddenly yanked her to a halt, his features morphing into full vamp-face as he snarled, "You never know who you could run into out here."

He was startled when the girl he thought would be an easy victim didn't react with the expected panic. Instead, she flashed a broad grin and said, "Boy, you're telling me."

Buffy, Spike, Xander, and Willow leapt down from their hiding places and surrounded the vamp. Realizing it was a trap, the vampire started to transform into fog. Before he had a chance to complete his transformation, however, Willow pointed a sprig of magically treated dwarfwhistle at him and shouted, _"Constrixi deficio!"_

The vampire roared when he suddenly found himself encased in a glowing rectangular box that hovered more than a foot off the ground. No matter how hard he fight, he couldn't escape the enchanted cell.

Buffy sauntered over to the captive vamp. "So, here's the problem we keep having," she began conversationally, "Every time we try to fight one of you guys, you turn into air." She unslung her backpack, reached inside. "And it's really hard to hurt air. At least, until you remember," she withdrew a gas can from her pack, "air burns."

Willow took the gas can from her and levitated herself to the top of the magical trap. With a muttered word, a small gap opened in the cell's ceiling just long enough for her to pour the can's entire contents onto the increasingly panicky vampire.

"You're gonna tell me everything I want to know," Buffy stated calmly.

"Speakin' for myself," Spike interjected with a sinister grin, "I'm hopin' you'll be difficult about it."

The vampire frantically shook his head. "I won't be difficult! I promise! Don't burn me! I'll tell you everything you want!"

Spike sighed. Barely ten seconds in and the pillock already caved. Pathetic, really.

Buffy, however, was quite happy not to have to wait for her answers. "Where's my Scythe?"

"Toru's got it," the vampire answered without hesitation, "He's holed up in the Ashikaga building downtown."

"Why does he want it?"

"He wants to reverse the spell you did. He—He wants to take away your powers. To make all the Slayers human again!"

Buffy's frown deepened. This confirmed her worst fear.

"How is he going to do it?" Willow asked.

"We have a witch. Kumiko. She can do the incantation, and we're building a lens that can amplify the spell."

"Oh, god," Buffy whispered under her breath.

"How long before this lens is finished?" Xander snapped.

"It's supposed to happen before dawn," the prisoner replied.

"Doesn't give us much time," Spike muttered.

Buffy nodded agreement. "We should get moving.

"Please," the vamp whined, "I told you everything I know."

Buffy eyed the creature impassively for a moment. Her eyes met Spike's then she and the others walked away, leaving the two vampires behind. Spike casually withdrew a packet of cigarettes from his duster's inner pocket, shook one out, caught it in his lips. He then put away the pack and retrieved his Zippo lighter from another pocket. As he lit up, the anxious vampire in the magic cell shouted, "You have to let me go!"

Spike exhaled a plume of smoke, the lighter still flickering in his grasp. "_I_ never agreed to that."

It was kind of beautiful, really, the way the flames danced inside the floating cage.

* * *

"I have to make the tough calls," Buffy said, gazing down at the dozens of sparring Slayers from atop the estate's protective wall. "People may not always understand why I do what I do, but I need everyone to follow orders anyway," she turned around to face Spike, "No exceptions."

"I get that," he answered, equally calm, though Buffy felt the sparks of his anger through the link. "Don't need to know all the whys, but I do need your orders to make some kind of bloody sense. And I'm not seein' the sense of you tellin' me to stand down."

"I'm not telling you to stand down," she refuted, "I'm telling you to lead. The girls here who knew Aiko, they're pretty shook up. I'm not taking them into battle." Buffy closed the short distance between them and placed a gentle hand on his chest. "I need someone I trust to stay here and look after them," she paused, then added solemnly, "And to help them bury Aiko."

Spike regarded her sincere eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not buyin' it."

Buffy sighed, "Spike..."

"You can't fool me, luv. I can feel you trying to convince yourself, but we both know you really want me to stay behind 'cause you're scared." He reached up to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Seeing what those bastards did to Aiko shook you. That was the whole point. But you can't let that fear influence you into leaving your best fighter behind."

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "And you think _you're_ my best fighter?"

He smirked. "Next to you, damn right I am." His expression became serious again. "And I'm not gonna follow your order, Buffy. Not this time." With that he walked away, calling back over his shoulder in parting, "See you on the battlefield..._ma'am_."

Buffy watched him leave, unable to hold back a wistful smile. When he was finally out of sight she allowed herself to mutter, "I can't believe I find it sexy when he calls me ma'am."

* * *

Toru's gang was almost a thousand vampires strong, all gathered around the Ashikaga building, which was easy to spot with the giant red lens rotating at its peak. The Slayers had numbers as well, all positioned around the perimeter. But numbers weren't the problem. The problem was trying to fight opponents who could simply disappear.

Buffy and her core group were perched atop another building within view of their goal. They were trying to come up with a strategy that wouldn't get most of their people slaughtered and so far were coming up nil.

"Don't suppose _you_ got any bright ideas," Spike challenged the older vampire in their midst.

Dracula threw the platinum blonde a disdainful look. "On how to slay vampires? Isn't that your little crew's area of expertise?"

"I'm not looking for a fight," Buffy stated before Spike could offer a scathing response, "All that matters is the Scythe. Once we get that back, they can't hurt us." She quickly amended, "I mean, except, you know, in the traditional biting and stabbing and clawing sense. But we'll deal with that when it comes."

She leaned out over the roof's edge to peer down at the milling crowd below, all of them vampires. Her Slayer senses tingled so much she was surprised she wasn't vibrating. "Right now, our only mission is to get into that building and retrieve the Scythe. All we need is a really big distraction so we can slip in the backdoor."

"Yeah, I _know_," Willow huffed as her floating body crackled with energy, "And if you all could just stop talking for one minute, I could concentrate long enough to work my mojo."

There was a chorus of sorrys. Willow ignored them. She threw her head back and slowly recited the necessary incantation, _"Dea pro mihi, audite meus dico, patefacio prodigium pro nos totus."_

The resulting flash was so bright it lit up the next six city blocks. Those up on the roof knew to shield their eyes, but the vampires at street-level were caught unprepared. When enough of the spots finally cleared from their vision, they gaped at the fifty-foot girl standing over them.

"Hi," Dawn waved uncertainly, "Or, I mean...roar?" She smashed her gloved fists into the buildings at either side of her. _"ROAR!"_

The vampires ran in a screaming panic. It was like a scene from a cheesy giant monster movie.

"Well, there's somethin' you don't see every day," Spike remarked.

The way was clear. Buffy led her team off the roof and into the Ashikaga building's unguarded backdoor. They rode the elevators to the topmost floor, where they found Toru gazing through the wall-high windows at the pandemonium outside. The Scythe was in his grip, its handle resting against his shoulder.

"Yep," Buffy declared, "That is, in fact, a giant Godzilla woman wreaking havoc on your minions. And to make matters worse, she's a teenager, so, _moody_." She marched right up to the seemingly impassive vamp while the others arrayed themselves throughout the huge empty office space to keep a lookout for trouble. "Believe me," Buffy advised, "there's no dishonor in surrender, despite what your culture says to the contrary."

Spike frowned when Willow suddenly gasped. "You okay, Red?"

The witch pressed a hand to her forehead. "Something's wrong."

Buffy reached for the Scythe, only for her hand to pass right through it. The same thing happened when she tried to grab Toru. His image wavered for a second, then disappeared altogether. "Guys!" Buffy shouted in alarm, "It's a—"

There was a horrible wet crunch. Blood spattered across Xander's horrified face. All eyes whipped around to take in the terrible sight of Renee's impaled body dangling from the stake-end of the Scythe, Toru grinning behind her as he smugly declared, "I believe the word you're looking for is 'trap.'"


	13. Chapter 13: Wolves at the Gate pt3

**A/N:** This is a pretty action-packed chapter. Just hope I wrote it exciting enough.

The italics stuff at the beginning is Renee's last thoughts, taken straight from the comic. Broke my heart when I read it. RIP Renee. :'(

PS-Don't worry. The Intendeds will be making their appearance soon. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_We have a cold journey ahead of us._

_Find what warmth you can for now."_—Count Dracula

_Oh, god...stupid, stupid...oh, god, this is so bad...don't fall...we gotta fight...there are so many of 'em...oh, god...where are they coming from...don't fall...Xander...where'd my voice go...Xander, Xander, Xander...oh, god, they're everywhere...please don't let me fall...I can't hear what he's saying...why can't I...oh, god...I'm not ready...I hope he knows...I never got to tell him...Xander, I'm not ready..._

The vast office space was in chaos. Vampires poured in and battled the Slayers, Buffy, and Spike. The room soon filled with mist and the snarls of wolves and panthers. Through it all Dracula remained stoic, watching as Xander knelt on the floor and cradled Renee's blood-soaked body, tears streaming from his single eye. As if coming to a decision, the Count abruptly spun around and barked at Buffy, "Slayer!"

"Close ranks around Xander!" the blonde shouted. A red-eyed wolf leapt onto her back. Dracula snatched it away before it had a chance to sink its jaws into her throat.

"Slayer, listen to me! Get your witch!"

"What?" Buffy stared at him, incredulous.

"I can stop them," the Count replied, "But I need your witch! Go get her!"

The Slayer vehemently shook her head. "I can't leave Xander alone!"

The ancient vampire's eyes turned gold, his fangs lengthened. "He is not alone," he growled, then proceeded to tear into the attacking vamps with stunning ferocity. It was so easy to forget how powerful the foppish master vampire truly was.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled, "You have command!"

Spike was in his gameface, yet it was still easy to see his confusion. "Where the hell are you going?"

"I gotta go get Willow!"

At the start of the battle, Willow had been swept out of the office by the top hatted, goth-girl witch. Buffy ran to the shattered window the two women had crashed through and stared in dismay at the magical smackdown taking place in midair. Buffy tightened her grip on the knife in her hand and whispered to herself, "It's just like a diving board. It's just like a diving board..."

She jumped. The knife was now clutched in both hands and when she crashed into the dueling pair, she plunged the blade into the goth witch's back. As the enemy's body spun away, Buffy's panic grew with the realization that Willow was unconscious and the ground was coming up very, very fast.

"_Not_ like a diving board! Not like a diving board _at all!_" She tried to shake her friend awake. "Willow? Um, I need you to wake up now!" Desperate, she began slapping the redhead's face. "Wake up, wake up, wake up..."

Meanwhile, Spike continued to lead the team of Slayers against the transmogrifying vamps. So far, they managed to not die, which he considered a win. As long as they kept fighting, they kept winning.

Outside, he heard Dawn's rallying bellow to the Slayers fighting in the street, "We don't run! Let's go, ladies! We're taking that building!"

Then there was a deafening crash, and a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that shook the floor under Spike's boots. He risked a look out the window and gaped at what he saw. "Bloody hell. They built a Mecha Dawn!"

The robot was an amalgam of Dawn's features and Godzilla's body. Its head and upper body resembled the teenager's, but it also had clawed feet and a broad tail. As the giant robot bore down on the equally giant teen, Spike couldn't help but wonder when the hell the vamps had time to create that ridiculous thing.

A hand yanked Spike around by the coat lapel. He snarled, ready for a fight, but it was the Count standing before him.

"We cannot stay here," the older vampire told him, "We must get to the roof before they begin the incantation."

Spike grudgingly nodded. They had to get the Scythe back. He rallied his team and followed the Count, fighting all the way. The locked door barring their path didn't even slow them. It splintered like matchwood, and they burst out onto the roof. There were dozens more vamps waiting for them, all guarding the huge red lens. Spike saw Toru stand before it, saw him raise the Scythe in his hand, about to recite the incantation. That was when Dracula leapt out of nowhere and tackled him. The impact caused the Scythe to fly from Toru's grasp.

"Get the Scythe!" Dracula bellowed as he continued to wrestle the other vampire.

Spike jumped up and ran across the heads of the vampires standing between him and his goal. He could tell by the Scythe's trajectory that it was about to miss the roof altogether and with a desperate leap, his outstretched hands closed on the weapon.

"Yes!" Spike grinned victoriously. Then he realized he was still falling. He'd followed the Scythe's original path and now plummeted over the side of the building. "Oh, bugger..."

Down at street level, Buffy and Willow dragged themselves out of the deep pool that had magically appeared under them just in time to break their fall.

"Sidewalk into water?" Buffy coughed.

Willow shrugged apologetically. "Short notice."

"Hey, I'm not complainin'."

As they began to wring out their clothes, something drew Willow's attention upward. "Hey, isn't that Spike?"

Buffy's eyes widened. "Ohmigod! He's gonna get smooshed!"

"Relax," the witch grinned, "I got this." She grabbed hold of the petite blonde and flew them both up on an intercept course. Buffy expected a hard impact when they reached the falling vampire, but as soon as Willow grabbed the back of his duster, her magical field extended around him and he slowed to a gentle halt.

Spike huffed in relief, "Right in the nick of time, Red." He grinned and held out the Scythe to Buffy. "I believe this is yours."

The Slayer beamed and accepted the weapon. "I love you."

"I know," the vampire replied modestly.

"What do you guys say we finish this fight?" Willow suggested.

Buffy nodded and tightened her grip on the Scythe. "Absolutely."

The witch levitated the three of them back up to he roof just in time to see Toru's second in command run across the roof towards them and shout into his headset, "Raidon to ground team. I need a retrieval, west side of the building. We've lost the Scythe. Repeat: we've lost the...Scythe." He skidded to a halt at the appearance of Buffy, Willow, and Spike hovering before him. Willow let the other two drop onto the rooftop and flew off towards the lens. Buffy took a swing at Raidon, but the vampire's lower half turned to mist and the Scythe's blade passed harmlessly through him.

"Oh, come on!" she yelled, "Fog is totally cheating!"

Spike, in the meantime, was busy fighting off a couple of snarling panthers. He roared in anger as one of them managed to claw the sleeve of his duster. "D'you know what a pain in the arse it is to fix this thing?"

Over by the lens, Dracula called Willow over to him. "Take my sword," he held the ornate weapon out to her, golden hilt first, "It's one of the ancient relics. Bound with demon spirit, like your Scythe. Angle a reverse incantation of Augustine's Curse through the portal. It should negate the vampires' abilities."

Uncertain, Willow took the blade from him. "Why can't you do the spell?"

"Because I'm one of the vampires," the Count answered simply, "Now, go."

Willow flew up to the giant lens and shouted the incantation as she brandished the ancient sword. _"Aufero incuentatus, kritikus pillanatban jelen van..."_

"Stop her!" Toru shouted.

_"Lacrimo Augustino!"_ An intense beam emitted from the blade into the center of the lens. The light exploded out the other side in a wide range that reached every vampire. Those that were wearing other forms immediately returned to their natural shapes. Their power to transform was gone.

"Scales are balanced again, girls!" Buffy staked the nearest vamp for emphasis. "They're vampires, we're vampire Slayers. Time to do what we do!"

The tide of the battle took a drastic turn after that. The vampires weren't used to fighting without a magical edge and were being staked by the score. Soon the air was choked with dust.

As for Dawn, she was still busy tangling with her metal doppelganger.

"MY NAME IS DAWN," the robot's artificial voice blared as it slammed the giant girl into another building.

"That doesn't sound anything like me!" she cried.

"I AM A TEENAGE GIRL."

"Then why do you have a _tail?_" She shoved the robot back. It punched her in the jaw, knocking her to the pavement.

"I CRY A LOT."

Dawn scrambled to her feet. "That's not true!"

"I OFTEN LET BOYS TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MY WEAK EMOTIONAL STATES."

_"No, I do not!"_ The enraged teen wrapped her arms around the robot's neck and gave a savage twist. There was a screech of tearing metal and the Mecha Dawn's head separated from its body. The headless robot swayed, sparks sputtering from its neck, then toppled onto yet another unfortunate building. Dawn grinned and tossed the head aside.

Up on the roof, Buffy was momentarily caught off guard when Raidon grabbed her from behind. "I bet you taste sweet, Slayer," he rasped into her ear.

"You have no idea, mate," a smug voice retorted just before a stake penetrated Raidon's back.

As the dust cleared, Buffy smirked at her rescuer. "You really just said that out loud."

"Why not?" Spike grinned, "It's the truth." He darted forward for a quick kiss, then returned to the ongoing battle.

In a different part of the fight, Dracula called out to Willow, "Witch! I'll take my sword back now."

Willow obligingly flung the weapon towards him. But before it reached his outstretched hand, Toru leapt up and caught the sword himself. "Just like an old man," he sneered, "He needs his cane to stand. He doesn't know what to do with himself now that he's an ordinary vampire again."

The Count easily evaded the younger vampire's swing. His elbow connected with the side of Toru's head and he twisted the sword from his opponent's grasp. "My boy, I was _never_ an ordinary vampire."

Toru screamed as his left hand was brutally severed from his wrist.

"Or did you forget who I used to be?" Dracula casually hewed through Toru's other wrist, then severed one his feet. "I've killed more men than God's plagues combined. And that was _before_ I started eating people for fun. The fields of Europe used to steam with the blood of my enemies. Trust me, the vampire's the least of your concerns." He loomed over his fallen enemy, lying helpless on the ground in a growing puddle of blood. "It's the old man you need to worry about."

Toru gritted his fangs against the agony and spat out, "Then do it. Finish me."

Dracula looked over his shoulder at a lone figure watching him. "It's not my place to kill you," he stated calmly, walking towards Xander.

"You owe me that honor!"

"And you know _nothing_ about honor." Dracula solemnly offered his sword. Xander took it and walked over to Renee's killer, his face still smeared with her blood. With a single swipe of the blade, he beheaded the vampire and watched as the dust blew away.

Buffy and Spike witnessed the entire scene unfold. The fighting around them was becoming sporadic as more and more vamps fell or ran. Rowena's voice suddenly crackled over the headsets, _"Rowena to command. The vamps are rabbiting. They're running away!"_

"So chase them," Buffy ordered, her voice eerily calm, "No prisoners. Seal off the streets. Cut them down as they flee." She started to walk towards Xander, who stared numbly as he let the sword fall from his grasp. "Kill every one of them."

Spike watched her approach her friend. Saw Xander fall to his knees and hug Buffy around her waist. Saw the Count stoically stand guard as the Slayer comforted her weeping friend. Then Spike turned to the closest girls and barked, "You heard her! Go! Not one of those wankers leaves, girls. Nobody gets out of here alive."

It was an order Slayers were more than willing to obey.

* * *

Renee's body was cremated, in keeping with her wishes. Xander took the urn out to the Japanese Slayer HQ's immaculate grounds and poured out the ashes, letting the wind carry them away. Then he spent the rest of the evening and much of the night seated on a nearby bench, staring off at nothing. Dracula went to check on him at one point, as well as to say goodbye. The vampire was once again dressed in his elaborate suit. All his bags were packed and and delivered out to the docks where a sailing ship he apparently owned waited to carry him back to Europe. If the loss of his shape-shifting powers troubled him, he hid it well.

Spike watched the Count and Xander's interaction from a distance, then went to rejoin Buffy in the guest room they shared. He found her seated at the foot of the bed, forearms resting on her knees, head bowed. Her emotions were a swirl of sorrow, regret, and guilt. Spike removed his duster, tossed it over the back of a chair, and went to sit beside her.

"An epic fight and only two fatalities on our side," he remarked solemnly, "Some might say we got off light."

"Two dead's still too many," Buffy murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowed back a lump in her throat. "It's never gonna stop hurting. Losing girls."

Spike laid a comforting hand on her back. His fingers massaged the base of her neck. "The girls here are gonna need a new commander."

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, "Guess somebody's getting a promotion."

"I'm thinkin' Satsu might be a good fit."

A crease appeared between her eyebrows. "Satsu? She's not very experienced."

"She's the best fighter we've trained. And I saw her takin' charge during the battle. She's a natural."

The look Buffy gave him was slightly suspicious. "That's not the only reason you think she should stay."

The vampire didn't try to deny it. "The bird's in love with you."

She blinked in surprise. "She what now?"

He smirked. "You didn't notice."

"Well, I... Th-That is..." Buffy sputtered, causing Spike's smile to widen. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. As a formerly sad, lovelorn ponce I recognized the signs," he stated drily. "I know how much it hurts, bein' close to somebody you love and not having 'em. The longer it goes on, the more of a torture it is."

Buffy sensed his empathy for the girl and put a hand on his knee.

Spike sighed and continued, "Distance from you is the best thing for her. Help her reconcile her feelings, figure out a way to move on."

Buffy chewed her lip in thought. "The girls here are raw. They still need a lot of training."

"I wouldn't have recommended Satsu if she wasn't up for it," Spike responded, "She won't let you down, luv."

She reached up to trace her fingertips over her lover's angular features. "This isn't the last battle we're gonna have to fight," she declared somberly, "More girls are gonna get hurt, killed." She let her hand drop with a weary sigh. "I just wish I knew for sure that it's all gonna be worth it. I-If I knew there was some kind of future for us—for all the Slayers—I could deal with the bad stuff happening now."

Spike's hand crept up to the back of her head, pulled her close so he could press a soft kiss to her forehead. "It _is_ worth it, Buffy."

She blinked away the tears from her eyes and whispered, "Show me. Please, show me that it's worth it."

Spike's lips found hers in a tender kiss. Their mouths didn't break away from each other as he scooped Buffy up and stood. He carried her bridal style around to the side of the bed to lay her gently down at its center, finally withdrew from their kiss to kick of his boots before he quickly joined her. Their arms went around each other as their mouths reconnected. After a few moments Buffy gave his shoulder a push. Spike took the hint and rolled onto his back. He was almost passive as he let Buffy undress him. Her hands lovingly caressed him, and she made sure to kiss every inch of his body that night.


	14. Chapter 14: Time Of Your Life pt1

**A/N:** I'm kind of excited about these next few chapters. Some very interesting events are about to take place. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Bad day. Started out bad, stayed that way."_—Buffy Summers

"Man, you really haven't lived 'til you've had Scottish Chinese takeout." Xander desultorily stirred greasy noodles with his chopsticks. "Anybody want some more sweet and sour haggis?"

Buffy smirked. "I think it's chicken, Xander. Although I'm not gonna guess which part." She grimaced at the contents of her own box of takeout.

She, Xander, Willow, and Spike were all seated around the mostly empty ops center. The computers and monitors were all powered down, only the security system currently running. Things had been slow since the battle with the Japanese vamps, a fact for which they were all grateful. Especially since three of the HQ's four leaders would soon be out of the country.

"Ah, quitcher grousin'," Spike chided, "Two days time we'll be in the home of the best Chinese takeout in the world. Well, after San Francisco." He frowned in thought. "And, I suppose, probably China."

"You're comin' down on us for complaining?" Xander snorted and pointed his chopsticks at the vampire, "_You're_ not even eating any of this stuff!"

Spike raised his coffee mug full of blood. "Hello? Vampire here."

"Never stopped you from chowing down on our food before," Xander countered.

Willow and Buffy smiled, somewhat reassured by the familiar bickering. Xander's spirits had gradually improved over the past few weeks. A lot of that had to do with the many long talks he had with Anya over the phone. He and his ex-fiancée had become each other's emotional support system after the final battle with the First. They'd made peace with their rocky history and realized they could still be friends. Of course, the geographical distance between them helped. When they were in close proximity to each other, their judgment tended to get clouded by the rampant pheromones.

"Bht whuy Nhh Yrk?" Buffy mumbled around a mouthful of chow mein, "Is ht rulluh n guhd umdea to guh now?"

Spike was taking a gulp from his mug when she made her talking attempt and nearly snorted pigs blood out of his nose.

"Chewbacca has a point, Will," Xander stated, earning him a glare from Buffy, "Do we really want to be abandoning the fort on the basis of some bizarro dream you had?"

"For the last time, it wasn't a dream," an exasperated Willow responded, "It was a vision that came to me while I was meditating, maybe from the Powers That Be themselves." In the vision, Willow saw herself, Buffy, and Spike standing on a balcony atop a tall building, gazing out at New York's distinctive skyline, and beyond it, the faint glow of twilight. "I think it means whatever—or _whoever—_this Twilight is, we'll find it in New York."

"And you're sure you didn't just doze off during the meditation?" Xander asked, clearly doubtful.

The witch sighed, "I know the difference between a dream and a vision, Xand. This was definitely a vision."

"And Vi did contact us to let us know her squad's wiccans detected some kinda anomalies in the area," Buffy added, having finally swallowed, "It can't be a coincidence."

Xander looked like he still wanted to disagree, but he knew that coincidences were the kinds of things that happened to other people.

Willow set her mostly empty takeout box down on the closest table. "That vision was sent for a reason. We need to find out what it means. Before we get attacked again. Before we lose another..." her eyes darted to her oldest friend, "...another fight."

Xander responded with a faint smile, "I appreciate the eggshells, Will, but...Renee's dead. I'm dealing with it—"

Leah suddenly burst into the room. "Guys! In the orchard. It's Dawn."

Everyone jumped to their feet and raced out the door. Willow flew ahead while Buffy and Spike raced towards the orchard at enhanced speed. Xander, being an ordinary human, soon lagged far behind the others.

"Dawnie!" Willow landed just outside the orchard. "Dawnie, what's wrong?"

The vampire and the Slayer skidded to a halt beside her. Their eyes scanned the treetops, but found no sign of the giant teen. "Where is she?" Buffy asked, worried.

Dawn's voice shouted from the trees' concealment, "Don't come in here!"

"Dawn, are you sick?" Buffy called out, "Can you stand?"

"I _am_ standing!"

"You got shrunk, Niblet?" Spike grinned, "That's fantastic!"

Sweaty and gasping, Xander staggered up in time to hear the news. "Wuzzis?" he wheezed, "Shrunk? Whuh?"

Buffy jumped in excitement. "Yay, Dawnie! Uh..." her joyful expression slipped as her sister reluctantly cantered into view.

Willow's eyes widened in shock. "Oh!"

Xander and Spike gawped.

Buffy's hazel-green eyes blinked. "Yay?"

Dawn's arms were crossed over her bare breasts; her clothes had remained giant-sized. From the waist up, she was back to normal. From the waist down, however...

She flicked her tail, sullenly stamped one of her four new hooves. "Neigh."

"Dawn..." Xander's face split into a wide grin. "You look awesome!"

The teen was incredulous. "You think this is awesome? My ass is huge, I have to pee a crazy amount of pee, and I want hay. I actually want to eat hay!" She stamped her hoof again.

"But you're a frikkin' centaur!" the former carpenter enthused, "A majestic creature of legend. I'm actually jealous."

Spike rolled his eyes at the elated geek.

Dawn pouted. "I don't feel like a majestic creature of legend. I feel like a freak."

Willow attempted to see the bright side of the situation. "Well, at least we know these transformations fade. A-And now I'm pretty sure I know the parameters. It makes sense, really. Kenny's a Thricewise. Magic number three!" She beamed.

"Terrific," the girl muttered, not at all comforted. "Could somebody at least get me a shirt?"

* * *

Buffy wished she could stay and help her sister through her latest ordeal, but the trip to New York couldn't wait. Willow insisted whatever they needed to find there was time-sensitive. They couldn't put it off.

While Xander readied the helicopter to deliver them to the international airport, Buffy spoke quietly into her cellphone to make some final arrangements. "Good," she said at nearly a whisper, "You'll let me know where?"

Spike finished loading their bags and called out to the petite blonde. "C'mon, slowpoke!"

Buffy quickly ended the call. "Sorry! Coming!"

"Soon as something interesting happens, you call in," Xander reminded her.

Buffy looked apologetic. "Sorry to leave you holding the bag of oats."

"Flicka and I will be fine," her friend reassured her, "I wouldn't feel good about leaving my squad right now, anyway. Now, git."

Buffy hugged him goodbye, then she and the others climbed into the helicopter and took off.

They'd booked a commercial flight to the States, rather than a private plane. But they were going first class, which was nice. Spike really appreciated the leg room, not to mention the complimentary champagne.

Buffy twisted around in her seat to speak to Willow. "You got a time frame on this mystical event thingie?"

Willow was paging through a thick tome she'd brought along, two more stacked beneath it. She didn't even look up from her reading when she answered, "I'm guessing sunset."

"How come?"

"It's what I saw in the vision." She shrugged.

"Just so you know," Buffy informed her, "I'm gonna need a couple of hours. I've got a, uh, meeting."

The redhead's eyes flicked up from the page. "Meeting?"

Buffy tried to sound nonchalant, "With a thing. It's no big."

Willow smirked. "I'll respect your crypticality for now, Slayer. I still need to get some clue about the event."

The blonde's expression sobered. "We really don't know what we're walking into, do we?"

"Do we ever?" Spike responded from the seat beside her.

"We'll be in and out in a day," Willow promised, "And as for the possibility of encountering hostiles, well...I sent somebody in advance to keep a mystical eye out." Her barely suppressed grin led Buffy to guess just who that "somebody" might be.

Her suspicions were confirmed when they arrived at the terminal and found Tara waiting for them. Willow beamed and walked right up to her girlfriend. "Hey, you."

"Hey, you," Tara smiled back, "Didn't miss you."

"Didn't even think about you," Willow countered, even as her arms slid around the other woman's waist.

"Kinda forgot you," the witch teased.

"And I would know you from...?"

Giggling, the two women kissed.

Spike approached, having retrieved his duffel from baggage claim. His nose wrinkled in feigned disgust. "Enough. All this lovey-dovey rubbish makes me want to heave."

Tara extricated herself from her girlfriend and went to give the vampire a quick hug. "Hey, Spike."

"Lookin' good, Glinda." Spike's mouth relaxed into a fond smile.

Tara peered around him and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Buffy! Do you n-need some help with those?"

Spike snickered as the Slayer lumbered into view loaded down with a dozen bags.

"No, I'm good," Buffy panted, "I'm balanced."

"That's a matter of opinion," Spike quipped. He turned to the blonde witch. "Had herself an outfit crisis. I blame myself," he added solemnly, "Should've seen the warning signs."

"Well, I've never been to New York," Buffy countered defensively. She hobbled after the others as they made their way towards the exit. "I wanna look New Yorky, and...there could be weather."

Spike chuckled and shook his head while Willow and Tara exchanged amused glances.

There was a stretch limo waiting for them outside. The chauffeur was even kind enough to load all of Buffy's luggage into the trunk without so much as a quirked eyebrow. Inside the vehicle, Buffy couldn't resist playing with all the buttons and switches she discovered. When the sunroof's cover slid back, she immediately popped her head out with an excited, "Ooh!" If anyone had seen her expression, they would have compared it to that of an ecstatic dog sticking its head out of a car window; eyes wide, ponytail flapping behind her.

"She's never been to New York," Willow told her girlfriend almost apologetically, "Or, apparently, a limo."

Tara asked Spike, "You've been to New York, haven't you?"

"Not since the Seventies." He pinched the lapel of his duster. "'S where I got the coat."

"Really?"

"Yep." He decided to leave out the part where he stripped it off the body of the Slayer he'd killed.

"Ooh! Ooh! Spike!" Buffy hopped up and down. "Empire State Building!"

Spike grinned, got up from his seat, and squeezed in behind her at the sunroof. He wrapped his arms around Buffy's waist and followed her excited pointing to the iconic building that loomed in the distance. Buffy flung up her arms and shouted at the top of her lungs, _"I'm the King Kong of the worrrld!"_

Spike threw his head back and laughed as he shared in her childish glee.

* * *

Manhattan Squad was headed by Violet, one of the original Potentials. Vi's hair was bright red and cut above her shoulders. Her cheeks and nose were generously dusted with freckles. When Spike looked at her, he remembered the callow girl who was so easily intimidated by even the most minor aspects of demonic life that he wondered if she'd ever survive. Now, listening to her calmly and competently summarize the current goings-on in the city, he couldn't help an almost fatherly sense of pride that came over him.

"What can I tell you?" Vi raised her pointer to a map of the city displayed on a large monitor, "We've got mystical turf wars raging in almost every section of the city—and that's just Manhattan. There's dark mages gathering in Tribeca, Harlem is overflowing with Fyarls, and there's a blood war in the financial district, which is actually status quo. Oh, and an angry spirit is attacking the cast of _Xanadu_. Don't ask me why."

Vi moved her pointer. "All of which means that tracing the mystical signature our wiccan squad picked up has been a little tricky. We _think_ it's coming from this high-rise on Fifty-Third and Lex. But it seems to be coming and going."

"It would be," Willow's voice interjected. The witch got to her feet and made her way to the front of the room, the excited murmurs of the Slayers glimpsing their first living legend trailing after. Vi graciously stepped aside as Willow cleared the monitor and picked up a stylus.

"This is time as we experience it," she drew a straight horizontal line across the screen, "There's the past, now, and the far-off future." Three vertical lines, spaced out along the horizontal. "The event happens sometime around here," she scribbled a dot between the Now and the Far Future marks, "But it's a _temporal_ anomaly, which means it affects the timestream, almost exactly like a pebble thrown into a pond."

"Can you even believe she's standing right there?" one of the Slayers whispered excitedly to the girl beside her.

"If that's Buffy, then that guy's gotta be Spike..." another girl whispered elsewhere in the room.

"...didn't think he was so hot..." "...'d she get that jacket?"

"And what your girls are picking up—I hear whispering," Willow's tone switched to stern schoolmarm, "And we are not playing Pictionary, so clam the hell up!" Satisfied, she continued from where she left off, "—is the last subsiding ripple of the event. An event completely fluid _temporally_, but deadlocked _spatially._"

Tara, Spike, and Buffy were seated on a table at the back of the room. Spike leaned over to whisper into the witch's ear, "How hot are you for teacher right now?"

Tara blushed adorably and ducked her head to hide her smile.

"I still hear whispering!"

* * *

Buffy left for her mysterious meeting soon after the briefing. Only Spike knew who said meeting was with, and he bloody well wasn't happy about it. Not because he didn't trust this person; he just really, _really_ disliked him. But they needed to know what the unnamed military organization was up to, and there wasn't a better inside man than, well, a man who was already on the inside.

Meanwhile, Vi and a small team of Slayers brought Spike, Willow, and Tara to the high-rise where this apparent temporal event was supposed to occur. The wiccans had pinpointed the exact location to an empty apartment at the top floor. Specifically, on the terrace. As soon as they all stepped out onto the roomy balcony, Willow's gaze went straight to the view ahead.

"This is it! This is the view from my vision." The witch grinned in excitement. "I mean, the sun's a little higher than what I saw."

"Guess that means we still have some time," Tara reckoned.

Vi rested her hands atop the balcony's wall and gazed out over the city. "It's quiet."

"You gonna follow that up with a 'too quiet'?" Spike drawled. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to the right of the sliding glass doors.

"No, I'm gonna say I think we're okay," the former Potential's tone was light, "Not to jinx."

Spike turned his attention to Willow, who was reading from one of the books she'd brought. He saw her frown at the weak light and wave a hand to conjure a glowing ball that hovered over her shoulder.

"Any clue what's supposed to happen here, Red?" the vampire inquired.

"We're on the furthest edge of a temporal rift," Willow muttered absently.

A smirk pulled up the corner of Spike's mouth. "Yeah, I saw the diagram, pet."

"Oh, right." The witch flashed an embarrassed grin. "So, the event is in the future. But every time those ripples swell, anomalies can occur. Something may be coming through to us. Hopefully, something helpful."

"Only if our luck changes," Spike muttered under his breath.

Tara nodded towards the skyline. "Sun's almost set."

"It'll be twilight soon," Willow anxiously chewed her lip, "I hope Buffy finishes her meeting soon or she might not get here in time."

"I'm here!" Buffy hurried through the sliding door onto the terrace. "I made it!"

Spike frowned as he took in her outfit; a low-cut, sleeveless dress that ended above the knee, in a shade of autumn gold that complimented her tanned skin and blonde hair. Her feet were clad in a pair of tall high-heeled boots that added a couple of inches to her modest height. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her face was carefully made up.

"Well, I feel under-dressed," he remarked, "Must've been some clandestine meeting."

Buffy frowned at the jealousy she picked up through the link, not to mention his tone. "I'm undercover! And I thought we weren't expecting fighty." She reached into her ridiculously oversized shoulder bag and pulled out the Scythe. "But I can change—"

There was a blinding flash, and suddenly a massive armor-skinned demon loomed in the spot Buffy had stood a second ago.

"Um..." Tara broke the stunned silence, "Th-The other look was fine."

The demon let out a deafening roar and charged.

"Slayers!" Vi shouted, "Flank and contain!" She shoved the two witches back from the immediate danger.

The ensuing fight was quick and brutal. The demon was every bit as strong and vicious as it looked, but the Slayers stood fast and kept it from escaping. Moments later, Willow managed to cast a containment spell to immobilize the creature.

"Damn! What the hell is that thing?" Vi wiped the sweat off her brow with an equally sweaty forearm.

Willow shook her head. "I don't know, bu—"

"Spike!" Tara's cry drew everyone's attention to a motionless form lying on the ground. Alarmed, they quickly gathered around him.

"Wh-What happened?" Willow stammered, "He wasn't anywhere near the fighting."

Spike looked as if he'd simply fallen face-down onto the terrace floor. Tara knelt beside him and bent down until she was practically lying down beside him. "Spike?"

He wasn't unconscious. His eyes were wide open, unfocused. He was whispering something so quiet and so fast that Tara was hard-pressed to understand him at first. She motioned the others to be quiet and inched a little closer.

"...she's gone I can't feel her can't feel her she's gone..." a continual litany.

Tara's eyes widened. Horrified, she sat up and stuttered, "He c-can't sense B-Buffy in the link. He can't f-feel her."

For a moment Willow was just as affected as her girlfriend, but then she quickly pulled herself together and ordered the Slayers to pick him up. The Slayers were confused, but did as they were told. Most of them didn't even know about the Claim, and therefore didn't understand the deep connection between Buffy and Spike. They sat the limp vampire up with his back against the balcony's waist-high wall. Spike continued to stare at nothing while he desperately whispered to himself. Willow knelt in front of him and gripped both of his shoulders. "Spike, listen to me."

When he didn't react, she grabbed the sides of his face and forced him to look at her. "Spike, _listen_. That demon thing, I think it's from the future, a-and I think Buffy took its place. She's not dead, Spike."

Her words seemed to be getting through to him. He'd fallen silent and his eyes were gazing right at her.

"I'll get her back, I promise," Willow vowed, "I'll find a way to bring her back. But you've gotta hold on for her, okay?"

Tears started to roll down the vampire's cheeks. It was a heartbreaking sight that unnerved the Slayers even more.

"I... God, I can't..." he broke down in gut-wrenching sobs.

Tara, eyes glistening in sympathy, sat down beside him and gently pulled him into a comforting embrace. Spike clung to her, face buried in her shoulder.

"I'll stay with him," Tara said.

Willow nodded, stood, and put on her resolve face as she marched over to the small pile of texts she'd brought and started researching in earnest.

* * *

First there was pain. Then more pain. Every cell of her body screamed, and all she could focus on was clutching the Scythe in her hand with all her strength, even though she was beyond recalling what the Scythe was or what it was for. And just when she thought the agony was never going to end...

A fist slammed into Buffy's jaw with enough inhuman force to send her flying over the balcony wall. Her fall towards the pavement was cut short by a large object that happened to be whizzing by. She landed hard on the roof of whatever it was and just managed to keep from skidding over the side. Her ponytail whipped behind her as the strange vehicle zipped through the air, weaving a stomach-churning path between the tall buildings. Buffy looked around in a daze and realized there were others flying around as well, many of them blaring horns as they cut each other off in traffic.

Traffic? Holy crap! She was sitting on a flying car!

A loud thump yanked her attention away from the astonishing sci-fi sight. Her attacker had decided to tag along. Buffy gazed up at the new arrival and gasped. Standing before her was a young woman; small, but sturdy, dressed in a dark blue, long-sleeved tee and black cargo pants. Her black hair was cut in a short, pixy-ish style. Her eyes were emerald green, and her button nose and cheeks were dusted with freckles.

It was the girl whose image the First Good wore back in Sunnydale.

"You..." Buffy breathed.

"Huh," the girl cocked her head, raised a weapon Buffy was shocked to realize was another Scythe, "Didn't know you buglies were shifters."


	15. Chapter 15: Time Of Your Life pt2

**A/U:** This chapter gets way AU from the comics. It's also mostly exposition, so I hope you'll all be patient. I tried my best to make it interesting. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_What happens in your time will cause your time to come."_—Willow Rosenberg

"Didn't know you buglies were shifters."

"What? No, no! I'm not shifty!" Buffy scrambled to her feet, cursed as the high heeled boots she wore struggled to find a secure foothold on the flying car's uneven roof. She stared at the girl in front of her. Judging from the killer right hook Buffy received, this girl definitely wasn't the First Good. She was the real person the First had chosen to look like in Buffy's time. Too bad it never mentioned the girl was a Slayer.

As both women eyed each other warily, Buffy couldn't help asking, "What the heck's a 'bugly'?"

The girl snorted. "Duh! Big ugly. As in big ugly demon who's gonna get its shifty ass kicked." She took a threatening step towards the blonde.

Buffy threw up a hand to forestall her. "Wait! Look, we both have Scythes," she held up her weapon for emphasis, "We both have awesome kung-fu moves. Turn-offs include insensitive men and vampires. You with me?"

The skeptical girl looked her over. "Buffy Summers."

"Yes!" Buffy exclaimed, surprised and relieved the girl knew who she was, "I'm Buffy Summers."

The next thing she knew the tapered point of the other Scythe's stake-handle was touching her throat. Damn, this girl was fast!

"See, I _know_ that ain't true," the girl said, her tone conversational.

There was no forethought to Buffy's next action, otherwise she might have stopped herself from being so rash. Her right arm reflexively lashed out to bat away the weapon threatening her. The sudden movement caused her to lose her uncertain footing and she found herself starting to topple over the side of the high-flying car. "Oh, shit!"

She jerked to a halt as the girl grabbed hold of her Scythe, leaving Buffy tilted precariously over the side of the flying car, the toes of her boots barely scraping the car roof's edge. For a moment both sets of green eyes met, then the girl gave a hard yank which pulled Buffy to safety. The Slayer lost her grip on the Scythe and dropped to her knees on the hard metal car roof. She looked up to see the girl scrutinizing the weapon. That was when Buffy noticed the girl's Scythe was different from hers. The blade was blue rather than red, and it didn't give off that _belonging_ vibe. Same design, but different weapon.

"This is the Scythe," the girl declared in surprise, "_The_ Scythe. But that's not poss."

"We're standing on a flying car," Buffy pointed out, "'Poss' is a pretty sketchy concept right now."

The girl stared at her, then grudgingly stated, "Not sayin' I believe you, but no way a demon'd have The Scythe on 'em without me hearing about it."

"I _am_ Buffy," she insisted, "I time traveled."

The girl's expression was about what one would expect from such a declaration. "Why?"

"Kinda hoping you were gonna tell me." Buffy peered cautiously over the side. _Boy, that just keeps going down, doesn't it?_ "Um, is there somewhere less motion-sicknessy we can talk?"

The girl snickered. "You talk like her, anyway." Before Buffy could ask how she knew that, she turned and bent her knees in preparation to jump. "Follow."

Buffy gawped as the girl effortlessly leapfrogged from one flying car to the next, working her way down to ground level. "Wait! I totally can't do that jumpy thing! Hello...?"

While she waited for so-called Buffy to catch up, the girl lightly tapped a finger to what looked like a piece of ear jewelry. "Call Sam."

A moment later a man's voice responded, _"Where are you? Wics said they detected an anomaly close by."_

"Yeah, think I found it," she stated wryly, "Was tanglin' with some bugly demon tearin' through downtown, then flash-bang, some chick's standing right where my fist's heading."

_"You're saying the demon changed its shape?"_

"Don't think so. Get this, she says she's Buffy Summers. Got the Scythe and everything."

Silence for a long beat, then the man's voice told her, _"Bring her here. We'll check her out."_

"'Kay. Er, you gonna call—"

_"Already on it. She should be here by the time you show up."_

Movement from the corner of her eye drew the girl's attention to Buffy leaping down from one last car and taking an unfortunate spill on the pavement. There was about a block's distance between them, but the girl still made out some of the Slayer's more colorful curses. She grinned.

"Gotta go." She tapped the earpiece a second time to disconnect.

Buffy hobbled over to the waiting girl. "I really hate heights."

"Maybe you oughta wear somethin' less dressy," the girl suggested with a smirk, "That frock and those boots, damn impractical."

"Well, I wasn't expecting the whole fighting and jumping around on flying cars!" Buffy retorted, defensive.

The girl shrugged. "Whatev. C'mon, got people you need to see."

"Can they help me get back to my time?" Buffy asked as she followed the girl down the busy sidewalk. Strangely enough, nobody gave two women toting big axe-weapons so much as a glance. "Um, am I still in Manhattan?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing. It's just... Well, it's way cleaner, for one thing." Buffy ogled the towering buildings. Even the older looking ones were almost pristine. No signs of grime from air pollution, no graffiti, no trash blowing down the streets. It was almost utopic-looking. "There isn't even any smog!"

"Smog?" the girl wrinkled her nose. "You _are _from way back."

Buffy gave her a curious look. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Call me Ishmael."

The Slayer blinked. "What?"

The girl laughed at her baffled expression. There was nothing remotely lady-like about it. Loud and raucous, she cut herself off with a snort. "Sorry. Always wanted to say that." She pointed a thumb at herself. "Name's Lex. And this," she indicated a nondescript building with a sweep of her hand, "is Slayer HQ. For New York, anyway."

Inside was just as unremarkable. Anyone who might wander in would think it was just another generic office building. Lex waved to the receptionist at the front desk and led Buffy straight to a row of elevator doors. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Buffy asked, "Y'know, Willow—she's my best friend; you probably read all about her—she said that this temporal event thingie was supposed to help us somehow. So, maybe you've got the skinny on this Twilight thing?"

Lex reacted slightly to the word Twilight, but not enough for Buffy to interpret. "What about it?"

"Well, what is it? I mean, everybody who's been trying to kill me keeps saying I'm the one who brings it, but I don't even know what the Twilight _is_," Buffy's frustration was obvious, "Is it some kinda relic? A spell? Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

Lex pursed her lips, unsure how to answer. Luckily, the elevator chose that moment to arrive, putting a temporary halt to the conversation. The two of them stepped into the car and the doors slid shut. Instead of buttons, there was a touchscreen panel. Lex touched the icon for one of the upper floors. There was the signature stomach-sinking feeling as the elevator started its journey and soft muzak began to play on hidden speakers.

A couple of seconds passed before Buffy broke the silence. "So, how many Slayers are there now?"

Lex half-shrugged. "Couple thou."

That surprised Buffy; she thought the Slayer population would have expanded over however many years had passed. "In my time, the Slayers have just recently been called, so we're kind of flying blind. I'd kinda like to know how you guys are organized."

"Can't answer that," Lex replied, "I'm not a Slayer. Freelance demon hunter's what I am."

"Wh-What?" Buffy stammered, "But you...with the jumping and the hitting...a-and you've got a Scythe!"

Lex smiled and held up the weapon. "It was a present. Got for my fourteenth b-day."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Weird childhood."

The girl let out another explosive laugh, as if the Slayer had made a hilarious joke. "Not if you know my fam."

_Ding!_ The doors slid open to reveal an open lobby decorated in muted earth-tones. There was a small group of people already waiting; a man and two women, one of whom was quite old. The man smiled warmly and stepped forward to greet them. "So, you're the time-traveler."

Buffy's shoulders tensed at the familiar tingle of her Slayer senses. "And you're a vampire." Her eyes widened when she noticed the distinctive scar on his neck. "A Claimed vampire. Oh my god! You're one of the Intendeds!"

The man's smile broadened. His face was youthful, but his eyes revealed his true age. This was no fledgeling. He was of average height with an athletic build, black hair, and beautifully slender features.

"And you're definitely Buffy Summers. Shifters can fake a lot of things, including memories, but I've never met one that could fake scent."

Buffy snorted. "You vampires. Anyone ever tell you the whole smelling people thing's kinda gross?"

"Gross, but useful." The man chuckled and held out his hand. "Sam Lawson."

She hesitated only a second before she accepted his hand. His skin was cool, as expected; his grip firm, but not too tight. As soon as their handshake ended, the younger of the two women approached. Her lustrous raven-black hair hung to her waist in shining waves. Her skin was olive-toned, and her eyes were dark brown. The smile she gave Buffy could only be described as radiant.

Buffy furrowed her brow. There was something familiar about this girl. Then something clicked and her jaw dropped open in shock. "Dana? I-Is it really you?"

The Slayer who, in Buffy's time, was too damaged to even hold a simple conversation, happily nodded. "It's me."

Tears stung Buffy's eyes. "You got better."

"I did," Dana leaned against Sam and wrapped her arms around his waist, "Thanks to him."

Sam put an arm around her shoulders and placed a tender kiss on her temple. The side of Dana's neck sported its own Claim mark, and it was a pretty easy guess who'd given it to her.

"I'm so glad for you," Buffy declared with full sincerity.

"It took a long time," Sam told her, "Years."

"We head up the Manhattan squad, now," Dana added.

"H-How long..." Buffy hesitated, "What year is it?"

It was the old woman who replied, "It's 2086."

A wave of dizziness caused the petite blonde to sway on her feet until Lex put a steadying hand on her shoulder. 2086. Eighty-two years in the future. Did Buffy ever make it back to her own time? She was almost too afraid to ask.

The old woman answered before she even had to, "Don't worry, Buff. We'll get you home, I promise."

It was the smile that gave her away. Everything else had changed—the wrinkled skin, the silver hair cut sensibly short, the veiny hands—but her childlike smile was just the same.

"Willow." Before Buffy knew it she was hugging her miraculously alive friend, sobbing as the numerous shocks she'd experienced since her unexpected jump to the future finally caught up with her.

The others waited patiently while Willow comforted her friend. Once Buffy got a hold of herself, she drew back and gazed at the old woman in astonishment. "B-But, how are you...?"

"Still alive?" Willow grinned. "Remember how I said I'm part of the magics? Well, turns out the magics have been keeping me alive. I'm not immortal, obviously," she laughed, "But I'm aging a lot slower."

Buffy hesitated. "And Tara?"

A hint of sadness touched the old woman's expression, but her smile didn't fade. "Sh-She died almost fifteen years ago."

"I'm sorry."

Willow squeezed the blonde's arm. "Don't be. We had a great, long life together. We were really lucky."

The elderly witch smiled fondly and shook her head. "Wow. You're just like I remember. The dress, the boots—"

"You knew she was coming?" Lex interjected, a slight crease appearing between her eyebrows, "Why didn't you tell me?"

It was Sam who explained, "We knew Buffy would arrive this year and that you'd be the one to find her. We just didn't know exactly _when_."

Willow added, "We knew if we said anything to you about it, you'd never bring yourself to go back home, and you would've hated that." She leaned over to stage-whisper to Buffy, "She's not a big fan of Manhattan."

"I like it fine!" Lex retorted defensively, "I visit a lot, don't I? Have a blast chasin' demons around all the skyscrapers and stuff. I just, y'know, wouldn't wanna _live_ here. Too crowded." She grimaced.

Something occurred to Buffy. "Wait. If there's a future you," she pointed at Willow, "and a future Dana, does that mean there's a future me here? Is there a future Spike?"

"Well, yeah. Don't you feel him?" Willow asked.

Buffy's eyes widened. She hadn't even thought about it. Her sense of Spike through the link didn't seem any different. She'd felt his surprise when she got zapped to the future, but figured it was still the Spike of her time who's emotions she picked up. "But if it's future Spike I'm feeling now, what..." Buffy's throat tightened as the dread set in, "I-Is _my_ Spike..."

Her aged friend's expression turned somber. "I remember that night, when you disappeared. Spike couldn't feel you at all. He just...he couldn't bear it, he hurt so much."

"Oh, god." Buffy's heart started to race as her fear for Spike's wellbeing increased. "I-I have to get back!"

Willow gripped her shoulder in reassurance. "We will, we'll get you back. We just can't do it here."

"Why not?" Buffy all but screamed.

"Hey, relax," Lex cut in, "All that stuff's already happened, right? You'll make it back and, uh, Spike'll be fine."

Buffy was too distraught to notice the way the girl stumbled over Spike's name, as if she'd stopped herself from saying something else.

Willow calmly explained, "The demon Lex was fighting..."

* * *

"...it's got this really amazing defense mechanism," Willow informed Tara and the Slayers. (Spike was still too far gone to listen.) Willow had spent the last hour cajoling, threatening, and at one point zapping, until the demon that had appeared on the high-rise balcony in Buffy's place finally spilled. "This is how it goes down: Years from now, our big ugly demon," she indicated the creature trapped by her containment spell, "gets into a fight with someone. I think it's a Slayer, but Big Ugly wasn't all that clear about it. Anyway, the demon was losing, so in a last-ditch attempt to save itself, it teleports itself through time into the past. To now. And since Buffy was standing in the exact same spot as the demon was—or will—she got sucked through the same time portal, only she went the opposite way, to the future."

Vi nodded to show she was following. "Great, so we just get Big Ugly to open another portal—"

"We can't." The redhead's eyes were full of remorse. "Opening the last portal took a lot of energy. The demon won't be able to open another one for weeks, maybe longer. A-And even if it does, it can't control when those portals go. It could open into the far future, or into prehistoric times, or only next week."

Tara glanced at the vampire huddled miserably beside her, then stood and approached her girlfriend. She asked in a whisper she hoped Spike didn't pick up, "Are you saying w-we can't get Buffy back?"

"No! I'm not giving up," Willow insisted, "I-I'm not sure how, but I'll find a way to get her back."

Both witches' gazes were drawn to the grieving vampire.

"This is my fault," Willow murmured sadly.

Tara was quick to disagree, "No, Willow. It's n-not."

"I thought my vision was telling me that we'd find some answers if we came here," Willow bit her lip, "But now I think maybe it was supposed to be a warning. And I didn't listen. Now Buffy's gone, Spike's suffering and probably gonna die." She sniffled, wiped her eyes. "We have to get her back."

Tara drew her girlfriend into her arms. "We will. I know it. We'll get her back."


	16. Chapter 16: Time Of Your Life pt3

**A/N:** Okay, this wound up having a bit more expositiony stuff. But next chapter's gonna have more action, I promise!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_I'm cute and blonde and popular, but I'm not stupid."_—Buffy Summers

Buffy yelped as they yet again seemed to narrowly avoid a mid-air collision. "Slow down! Hit the brake!"

Lex grinned at her from the driver's seat. "What's a brake?"

"Watch the road! Or the—the, uh... Just pay attention!"

The girl laughed and turned her head towards the windscreen. Lex, Buffy, and Willow were all riding in the girl's flying car to wherever they needed to go to get the Slayer back to her own time. Willow had mentioned something about a magical relic, but Buffy was too distracted by her anxious thoughts about Spike to really listen. She and the witch were in the backseats while the front passenger side was occupied by Lex's Scythe. Buffy's imagination conjured up a gruesome scenario where they crashed and the weapon went flying back to behead one of them.

"Oh, god..." She suppressed the urge to heave as the vehicle made a drastic swerve. "I really hate flying. Why can't we teleport again?"

"Because Lex was already headed the way we're going," Willow reasoned, "No point in using magic if we don't have to."

_That_ definitely wasn't like the Willow she knew. "Yeah, but teleporting's faster."

"What's the rush?" Lex asked, "Even if you're stuck here for months, you can still time-travel to when you were only gone a short while. Right?"

Buffy decided not to think about that too hard, otherwise she might wind up with a headache on top of her motion-sickness. Instead, she let her thoughts drift back to Dana and Sam. Part of her wished she could've stayed a bit longer to get to know them better. She especially wanted to find out how they finally managed to track down the Intendeds. Did Tara finally perfect her locator spell, or did they find another way?

Maybe if she'd been less concerned about what Spike—_her_ Spike—was going through, she would've gotten around to asking those questions. Or maybe not. She did notice that everyone seemed to pick their words when around her, like they didn't want to give too much away.

"Can the past be changed?" Buffy asked the witch beside her, "Is that why nobody's giving up any details? 'Cause I could wind up changing history with what I know?"

Willow smiled and shook her head. "No. Well, you _can_ change history, but only if it's, say, a few days ago. But something like eighty years, i-it's like the timeline's set. Like cement, you know? You actually, physically being here means this isn't just a possible future, it's _the_ future."

Buffy pondered this information. "So, even if you told me every single thing that happens between my time and now, it's all still play out the same."

"Yep!"

"Then why not tell me?"

"Spoilers!" Lex interjected, "It's like watchin' a movie for the first time. Everything's, like, preordained, but you don't know what's gonna happen. And if somebody tells you what happens, it ruins the whole experience. Plus, there's that whole free-will thing."

Willow nodded. "She's right. You can't really make any choices if you already know what's going to happen."

"But it's all gonna happen anyway," Buffy argued, "How can I have free-will if everything's predestined?"

"You have free-will _because_ you don't know what's gonna happen," Willow answered, "Otherwise, you'd just be going through the motions."

It made a weird, metaphysically kind of sense. The kind that'd probably make Buffy's head explode if she thought about it too much. So, she shrugged it off and decided to just go with the flow, same as always.

"Oh, look!" Willow pointed out the side window, "We're passing over the solar farms."

Buffy peered out onto what looked like an endless field of slanted platforms. Solar panels. Thousands of them.

"Wow. Do those all power the city?"

Lex replied, "Nope. They power the whole State."

"Most of the world's converted to solar power," Willow informed her, "And all these cars run on natural fuels that don't pollute the air."

"That explains the lack of smogginess," Buffy remarked.

"A lot's changed over the last few decades," the witch said, "Most of it's because of actions you take back in your time."

"How d'you figure?"

Willow pursed her lips as she debated over how much to tell. "Let's just say, not all the bad things that happen in the world come down to human nature."

"Well, yeah," Buffy snorted, "I've handled enough apocalypses to know that."

"I'm not talking about all the in-your-face end-of-the-world stuff," her friend corrected, "I mean all the rotten things going on that seem impossible to fix 'cause there's no one cause. Or at least, that's what it seems like. All the poverty, climate-change, crooked politics. The slow, inevitable grind towards oblivion. You do something that turns it all around."

Buffy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "This have something to do with this Twilight thingie?"

Lex's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.

Willow grinned. "Spoilers."

When they reached the coast, the car swooped away from the main flow of traffic and out over the water. Lex gleefully declared, "I love this part."

She piloted the car low enough for the jets to bring up a massive spray of water in its wake. Lex whooped and did a serpentine. "Woo-hoo! Where we're going, we don't need roads!"

An island came into view. It was long and narrow, and it had a small town spread out over about a third of its surface. The rest of the island was taken up with dense woodlands.

"Next stop: Helve Island," Lex announced, "Home sweet home."

As soon as they entered the town's limits, Buffy's Slayer sense went haywire. "There's demons down there. A _lot_ of 'em."

"Not just any demons," Willow told her with a smile, "Those are Intendeds. Slayers, too. Aside from the HQ's, this place has the highest density of 'em."

"There's ordinary humans, too," Lex added, "The Slayers and Intendeds just sorta gradually trickled in 'til people stopped noticing anything weird."

Buffy peered out the window. She saw quite a few people walking around; young-looking women who were likely Slayers, as well as men and a few women who could be Claimed vamps immune to the sunlight. But there were other beings down there was well. Buffy gaped, "Is that a Fyarl?"

"Oh, yeah. That's Brutus," Lex muttered absently.

Willow laughed at the Slayer's gobsmacked expression. "Turns out not every Intended's a vampire. Most are, but every once in a while we find one from another demon species. The Claiming works just fine with them."

"Okay, but...a _Fyarl?_"

"Oh, don't be a speciesist," the witch chided, "Brutus is a total sweetie. He wouldn't hurt anything."

"Not deliberately, anyway," Lex said, and she and Willow started laughing, obviously thinking of an incident that Buffy wasn't privy to.

They came in for a landing beside a beautiful two-story Victorian house with one of the biggest porches Buffy had ever seen. A man was lounging in a white wicker couch, reading from a hardcover book. He looked up when the car landed, set the book aside, and rose from his seat, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his charcoal gray jeans.

"Spike," Buffy whispered. She would have known it was him even if she hadn't seen the platinum blonde hair. She fumbled with the handle until the door popped open, clambered out of the vehicle, and ran towards the house.

Spike was just the same. His look had changed a little, but the feel of him through the link was no different than in Buffy's time. He descended the porch steps and held his arms out, a loving smile on his face. Buffy cannoned into him. She trembled as she clung to his comforting solidity.

"Shh." Spike rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. "It's alright, luv."

Buffy drew back to better look at him. His hair was no longer slicked back, but allowed to curl naturally, which softened his severe features somewhat. Black wasn't the primary color of his clothes anymore, but he still wore his signature duster. Buffy smiled and rubbed the lapel. "Didn't think the coat would last this long."

Spike grinned. "Actually, this is a different one. You bought it for me after I lost the original in the explosion. Long story."

"I'll bet." It was weird hearing him reference an event that hadn't even happened yet from her perspective. Movement at the corner of her eye drew her attention to one of the house's second story windows. A twitch of a curtain. Buffy's eyes widened slightly as something occurred to her. "Does this mean future Buffy's here?"

"Well, it _is_ our house, luv." Spike noticed her discomfited expression and reassured her, "Don't worry. She's keepin' her distance. She remembers how much the thought of meetin' your future self put you off."

Buffy let out a tense breath. This whole time-travel experience was freaky enough without having to face another, older her.

Lex's voice cut in, "Am I the only one who didn't know about Miss Marty McFly?" She and Willow approached, the elderly witch smiling and the young girl mock-scowling at the vampire.

Keeping one arm around Buffy, Spike reached out and draped his other arm around Lex's shoulders. "Sorry, poppet. We'll tell you everything you wanna know from now on, I promise."

"You'd better," the girl sulked.

"Your mum's baked some apology cookies."

"Ooh!" Lex instantly broke away and dashed into the house.

A puzzled frown appeared on Buffy's face. "Lex's mom lives with you, too?"

Willow tsked and gave Spike an admonishing look. The vampire winced, "Bugger. Slip of the ol' tongue."

"What're you—"

Lex reemerged from the house, munching on a large chocolate chip cookie. In her other hand was a milk carton. "By the way, we're outta milk," she said, taking a swig straight from the carton.

Buffy looked at the girl. _Really_ looked at her. The high cheekbones, the shape of her mouth, the green eyes. A wave of dizziness came over her and, if Spike hadn't been there to support her, she likely would've dropped down on the lawn. "Omigod...omigod..."

"She figured it out," Willow observed drily.

Spike gently guided the dazed Slayer over to the porch steps and helped her sit down. "Deep breaths, luv. I know it's a hell of a shock."

"But wuh... How..." Her alarmed gaze flitted from Lex to Spike. _"How?"_

It was Willow who replied. "Honestly, we still don't know." The witch smiled apologetically. "We _think_ it has something to do with the Claim. That when a Slayer and her Intended...you know..."

"Bump uglies?" Lex smirked.

Willow rolled her eyes and continued, "...that for a second, right at the climax, the two of them sort of...merge. And for just that teeny bit of time, the Claimed couple are both alive and undead at the same time."

"Like Schrödinger's cat!" Lex happily clarified.

The witch smiled, amused. "Right. Which means, everything about the Intended is both alive _and_ undead. Including, y'know, reproductive organs."

"You mean there's more of..." Buffy waved a hand at the girl.

Willow nodded. "'Bout five hundred at last count."

"God." Buffy cradled her head in her hands. "Just when I think things can't get any wiggier."

"I think you're handling it better than most would, luv." Spike squeezed her shoulder.

Lex squatted beside the stunned woman and held out her half-eaten cookie. "Wanna bite?"

For some reason, that innocent offer set Buffy off. She laughed for what felt like ten minutes and when she finally calmed down she wasn't quite so freaked out. "Thanks," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks, "I think I'm okay, now."

Spike smiled in understanding. "For what it's worth, I thought I was goin' barmy when I started sensing two of you. Didn't know about any of this 'til, uh, future Buffy explained it all a few hours ago."

"So, all these years, you didn't know about any of this?" Buffy asked.

"I knew some. Knew you went to the future, that night you—" he paused as a flicker of remembered pain crossed his features, "But I never got all the details. Truthfully, I was just too bloody grateful to have you back to ask all that many questions."

"Me and future Buffy were the only ones who knew the whole story," Willow explained, "'Til now, that is. We told Sam and Dana you'd be coming, of course, so they knew to keep an eye out. That's pretty much it."

"S-So I _am_ gonna make it back." The blonde's eyes were hopeful.

Spike got something from his coat pocket and held it out in his palm. It was a ring, made of dull, beaten metal. It looked completely unremarkable, until Buffy looked closer and saw it was actually in the shape of a coiled serpent, its details faded with age. Its inner surface was etched with faint symbols or ancient letters.

Lex peered over Spike's shoulder. "Mom's ring?"

Willow picked up the bit of jewelry and held it up. "The Gate of Inevitability," she intoned, "Legend says it was created by Chronos, the god of Time, and Ananke, goddess of Inevitability. When you recite the incantation, the gate opens to whatever time you think of. Of course, it only opens wherever the ring is at that point in time, so there's no telling _where_ you'll end up, only _when_."

"So, any idea _where_ I'll find myself?" Buffy inquired.

"You're not gonna like it," Spike chuckled, then told her. He was right; she didn't like it.

"There's somethin' else you gotta know," the vampire told her, "Not long after you arrive, a situation's gonna come up. Everyone's going to believe one thing, but your gut will be tellin' you something else. Don't listen to what anyone else says," he stressed, "It's all rubbish. Listen to your instincts."

Buffy nodded. Her expression became somber. "I can't imagine what he's going through," she murmured.

Again, that flicker of pain, felt through the link.

"I was ready to dust right then," Spike's voice roughened, "Wouldn't have needed a stake to do it. Only thing that kept me from letting go was that tiny shred of hope that you'd come back."

Buffy swallowed back a sob and threw her arms around him. "I'm coming back."

"I know, luv."

They reluctantly moved apart. Buffy turned to Lex and smiled. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer, get to know you better."

"You will," Lex grinned, "Starting in about sixty years when Dad knocks you up with me."

Buffy laughed. Spike snorted in amusement and wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, hugging her against his side.

The petite blonde turned to the witch and nodded. "I'm ready."

Willow stretched out her hand where the ring sat in her palm. She began to chant in ancient Greek: _/:/As it ever was. As it ever will be. Through Space and Time, it was ever thus./:/_

There was a reverberating hum, as if someone struck a huge tuning fork. It vibrated through their bones and made the hairs on their arms stand on end. The ring levitated from Willow's hand and began to spin in midair. The witch stepped back as the ring spun faster and faster, stretching and expanding until it was over six feet in diameter. A strong wind built up, whipping everyone's clothes and hair around. The ring abruptly stopped spinning, and all that could be seen through its center was a churning fog.

"That's the gateway!" Willow shouted over the gale, "Hurry through before it closes!"

Buffy tightened her grip on the Scythe, took a deep breath, and ran. She didn't give herself a chance to second-guess. She dashed through the portal—

Almost the instant she went through, the gate shrank back down into the simple ring and dropped to the ground with a quiet _pat_.

Lex blinked. "Huh. That was anticlimactic."

"Trust me, it's way more exciting at the other end." A petite blonde woman stepped out onto the porch. Her gait was awkward, due to her swollen belly.

Spike smiled warmly and climbed the steps to his lady's side. His hand automatically touched her belly to feel the baby's movement. Future Buffy slipped her arms around the vampire's waist, rested her head on his shoulder. "It's weird," she mused, "I always thought there'd be some kinda closure. But it just feels, I dunno...unreal."

"I know what you mean," Willow agreed as she joined the couple on the porch.

Lex bent down to retrieve the ring. She carried it over to her parents and offered it to her mother.

Buffy shook her head. "Keep it. It's yours now."

"Mine?" Lex stared at the simple band of metal in her hand. Too large for her fingers, she slipped it onto her right thumb, same as Buffy had when she wore it. The girl eyed her mother suspiciously. "Dad said you'd tell me everything."

"And I will," Buffy promised.

"Okay," Lex crossed her arms, then asked her first question, "So, what happens next?"

Her mother grinned.

* * *

Down in the lower levels of Wolfram & Hart's magical artifacts storage, a metal shelf buckled and collapsed as a portal expanded right in the middle of it. Wind howled through the confined space, sending ancient parchments swirling around the room. Then a petite blonde woman in a short, sleeveless dress and high-heeled boots stumbled out from the vortex. Once she was clear, the portal collapsed. There was a faint _clink_ as a plain-looking ring dropped to the floor and rolled under one of the toppled shelves.

Buffy blinked as she tried to adjust to her new surroundings. Much of her attention was occupied with calming the frantic emotions screaming at her through the link.

_Relief...Worry...Fear/Elation..._

Tears stung Buffy's eyes; the intensity of Spike's feelings nearly overwhelmed her.

_ Soothing...Love...Reassurance..._

It took a while, but she finally got Spike settled down enough for her to start wondering why the room wasn't swarming with security guards. A place like Wolfram & Hart should've had security up the wazoo, so why wasn't anybody investigating her loud and messy entrance?

Puzzled and more than a little wary, Buffy made her way to the exit and took the first elevator she found to the top floor. Angel being the big cheese of the firm would surely have his office there.

The place was dead quiet when she stepped out of the elevator. She noticed a clock on the wall read past midnight; everyone was probably home for the night, unless they were workaholics. She heard voices up ahead and followed. A moment later she came upon a wall of windows that offered a view of a conference room. Buffy's eyes widened at what she saw; two men and a woman standing on chairs, their mouths gagged, and nooses made from thin wire around their necks. Angel was in the room again, facing off with another man, who was pacing the room as he talked. Buffy barely suppressed a gasp when the man turned and she saw his face. His hair was cut shorter than in the future, but otherwise he looked just the same. Sam Lawson, the vampire she met in future Manhattan. The Intended.


	17. Chapter 17: Purpose

**A/N:** This chapter mainly covers the end of the episode "Why We Fight" and the episode "Destiny" from the Angel TV series. I scrambled the show's timeline a bit to suit my needs. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the AtS episodes.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _Angel_ are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_There's a difference between orders...and purpose."_—Sam Lawson

Sam was standing between Angel and the three hostages. Buffy recognized Wesley Wyndham-Price on the far right. The woman in the middle and the African-American man on the left must have been Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn. Spike had told her about them, having met them when he came to retrieve Dana.

Thinking about the tragically deranged Slayer made Buffy realize just how dire the situation was. Sam was the key to Dana's miraculous recovery in the future, which meant Buffy had to make sure he wasn't dusted now. Careful to remain out of sight from the floor-to-ceiling window looking in to the conference room, Buffy crept closer until she was right beside the open door. She moved with the silence of a Slayer well versed in remaining undetected by vampires' enhanced senses. With infinite care, she peeked around the edge of the door, catching just the barest sliver of a view.

"Did they at least torture you?" Sam questioned Angel, "Please tell me they did."

Buffy was surprised; she hadn't expected him and her ex to have a history. And a pretty rocky one, from the sound of it.

"Never gave them the chance," Angel replied, "Jumped ship off the coast of Maine. Went underground 'til the war was over."

"Like any other coward," the black-haired vampire sneered.

Angel's tone was reasonable, "Wars are won and lost by men."

_Which war?_ Buffy wondered.

"You mean men like me? No, wait. That doesn't apply anymore, does it?"

"I never wanted to do this to you."

Lawson scoffed, "Oh, put your hanky away. I know how important the technology they pulled from the sub was to helpin' us stop the Germans. Sounded like a fair shake. One person damned to make the world safe for future generations." He smirked, gestured to the hostages. "Except these guys."

Sounded like World War II. But what had Buffy gaping was the realization that, unless she was totally misreading between the lines, Angel sired Sam. But Angel had a soul then! Why would he sire another vampire?

Angel cast a worried glance at his friends. "Killing them's not gonna change the past."

Sam casually circled the three hostages, standing on the office chairs with their necks in wire nooses. One little push and the wire would slice through their flesh with horrific ease. Sam gave the older vampire a sidelong look. "But it'll hurt you. Maybe that's enough. Maybe I found my mission again after all these years."

"Being an evil son of a bitch not keeping you busy?" Angel challenged.

Lawson shrugged. "We all need a reason to live, even if we're already dead. Mom, apple pie, stars and stripes. That was good enough for me, 'til I met you. Then I had this whole 'creature of the night' thing goin' for me—the joy of destruction and death—and I embraced it. I did all the terrible things a monster does. Murdered women and children, tortured fathers and husbands just to hear 'em scream. It all brought me the greatest satisfaction." His smile faded and his expression hardened. "Now I feel nothing. No joy. No excitement. Sixty years of blood drying in my throat like ashes. So, what do you think?" he all but spat, "Is it me, Chief? Or does everyone you sired eventually feel this way?"

It was the spark. The spark of Light, of humanity, that the Powers That Be granted him when he was Called as an Intended. Only Sam didn't know any of that. He didn't understand why he started feeling the way he did. Spike never knew any different; he was Called as soon as Drusilla sired him. But Sam was hit with it all of a sudden, after decades of being an ordinary vamp. There was no one to tell him that he wasn't the only one going through this change. A chill ran down Buffy's spine as it occurred to her what his real motive was. Sam wasn't here for a long-delayed revenge against his sire. He was hoping that Angel would put him out of his misery.

Angel's voice was full of regret when he answered, "You're the only one I did this to...after I got a soul."

"Do I have one, too?" That subdued question almost broke Buffy's heart, as did Angel's solemn response.

"I don't think it works that way, son."

Sam pursed his lips, nodded. "Didn't think so."

He lashed out without warning, and so the fight began. At one point Angel kicked him and Sam tumbled across the floor. When he jumped back to his feet, he very nearly bumped into Fred, but he caught himself in time and threw Angel a wry grin. Even if Buffy didn't already know about his future, that brief incident would have decided her. He didn't have to stop himself from accidentally harming Fred. It was reflexive, something an ordinary vampire wouldn't have done, deliberately or otherwise.

"You gave me just enough, didn't you?" Lawson snarled, "Enough of your soul to keep me trapped between who I was and who I should be. I'm nothin'. Because of you."

As Buffy prepared to step in and break up the fight, Sam suddenly crashed through the wall-high window. Angel marched through the jagged hole and paused, towering over the younger vampire. Sam grabbed a splintered piece of the broken window frame and stood, brandishing his makeshift stake.

Neither vampire noticed the Slayer watching them just a short distance away, too caught up in their battle.

Angel's face was set in a determined frown. "You really want it to end like this?"

"Sounds like a plan." Sam lunged. Angel blocked his attack and grabbed hold of his wrist. As the two vampires struggled, the stake slowly turned in their combined grasp until its sharp point was aimed at Lawson's heart. Sam looked straight into his sire's eyes. "Come on, Chief. Give me a mission."

Before Angel could strike the deathblow, Buffy leapt in and slammed the flat of the Scythe's blade into the side of Sam's head. The black-haired vampire instantly collapsed and lay motionless at Angel's feet.

Angel's stunned gaze jumped between the unconscious vampire and the inexplicably present Slayer. "Buffy? How the— What're you doing here?"

"It's a very long, very weird story," Buffy sighed. She nodded towards the conference room. "Go ahead and help your friends. I'll figure out a way to tie him up." She nudged Sam with her toe. After a bit of scrounging, Buffy found some shackles tucked away in a security station's desk. She sat the unconscious vampire in a sturdy chair and cuffed his hands behind him, through the bars of the chair's back. She also found a roll of duct tape somewhere (there's always a roll of duct tape somewhere) and used up pretty much all of it to secure Sam's legs and shoulders. Angel had suggested throwing him in a cell, but she refused; she didn't want the Intended out of her sight. Not here. Especially not when more and more of Wolfram & Hart's staff was trickling into the building; yet another early start to the working day. It said a lot about the kind of place this was that nobody gave the destruction to the conference room a second glance.

"Why ain't he a pile of dust again?" Gunn asked once he and the others were freed.

"That's a good question." Angel threw a stern glower towards Buffy. It was the kind of look one gave a misbehaving child and Buffy had to stifle the urge to roll her eyes.

"You can't kill him," she replied, "He's...important."

"Important how?" Fred asked, genuinely curious.

Buffy sighed, rubbed her forehead. "I can't tell you."

Angel looked hurt. "You don't trust us." And out came the puppy-dog eyes.

Buffy did roll her eyes this time. "I don't trust your bosses," she stated bluntly.

"Our bosses are the Powers That Be."

"That's not what the header on your stationery says." Buffy picked up a sheet of paper from Angel's desk for emphasis. The Wolfram & Hart logo was clearly emblazoned at the top.

Angel clenched his jaw in frustration. "Fine. If you're not gonna tell us why Lawson matters so much, how about you explain to us how the hell you got here."

Buffy thought about it for a second. "I'll tell you what I can. _After_ I make a phone call. I left some people behind in New York and I need to let 'em know where I am."

Her ex nodded towards the phone on his desk. After she figured out how to get an outgoing line, Buffy dialed Willow's cell, grateful that she'd memorized the number.

Willow answered on the first ring. _"Hello—"_

There was a brief, muffled struggle, then Spike's voice came over the receiver. _"Buffy."_

She felt him reaching for her through the link. She responded with soothing thoughts as she echoed her reassurances over the phone. "Shh. It's okay, baby. I'm okay."

She heard a sound that might have been a choked sob. _"Where are you? What—"_

"It's a long story. I promise I'll tell you whatever you want to know later. Right now I need you and Willow and Tara to come get me," Buffy paused, knowing he wouldn't like what she was about to tell him, "I'm in LA, at Wolfram and Hart. Angel's here."

Anger and jealousy reverberated in the Claim, but Spike kept his voice more or less steady. _"We'll be there. Red can teleport us."_

Buffy thought of something. "Ask Vi if you can borrow a couple of her girls. There's a vamp here I wanna take back with us. I don't intend to stake him if I don't have to." She put just the slightest emphasis on the word "intend" and sensed that Spike got her meaning.

_"You sure you don't want us to bring the whole squad, luv?"_

Buffy smiled, "Two or three ought to be enough."

A cynical snort. _"Not with bloody Wolfram and Hart involved."_

"They're not involved," she assured him. As far as anyone else knew, Sam Lawson was just another vampire. Having her friends bring a small escort was going to draw enough attention as it was.

_"We'll be on our way soon as Red gets her mojo on. I love you."_

"I love you, too." Buffy hung up the phone and took a moment to compose herself. When she looked up, it was to confront Angel's dark expression. His keen ears had picked up the sound of Spike's voice over the receiver.

"You and Spike," there was no mistaking the anger just beneath the surface, "Thought you got over him when you went to Rome."

Buffy sighed, "That wasn't me."

"Really? 'Cause I have some pretty reliable sources who'd disagree."

"'Sources'?" Buffy drew back, eyes narrowed. "Have you been spying on me?"

"No," he denied a bit too quickly. Behind him, his friends exchanged uncomfortable looks. "I just hired a few...discreet people to...to keep an eye on you." Angel shuffled his feet, aware of how it sounded. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Oh, my god! You hired a bunch of flunkies to do your stalking?" Buffy gaped, incredulous. "What, did you charge it as a corporate expense?"

Before Angel could think up a response, a man in a security uniform knocked on the door. "Excuse me, sir. There's a group of people who teleported just outside the building. They said you were expecting them."

The vampire heaved a weary sigh. "Yeah. Let them in."

Moments later Spike barged into the room. The instant his gaze fixed on Buffy he practically bowled his way through everyone to reach her. The Slayer hurried to meet him and they all but collided with each other. Their arms coiled around each other with enough strength to crush an ordinary human's bones and their mouths met again and again in desperate, devouring kisses.

Fred blushed and hid a smile behind her hand. Gunn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Wes was taken aback by the passionate display, not to mention who was participating. As for Angel, he ground his teeth and averted his eyes.

Willow, Tara, and two Slayers entered the office a second later. The Slayers immediately positioned themselves to either side of Sam. The bound vampire seemed to be unconscious still, but nobody was going to take that for granted.

Willow greeted Angel and the others—having met them all over a year ago when Angel needed help getting his soul back—and introduced them to Tara. The redhead finally threw an amused look at the embracing couple. "Hey, you two. Why don't you get a room?"

"Brilliant plan," Spike panted against Buffy's lips. The couple reluctantly disentangled themselves and dashed out the door, hand in hand.

"Wuh—" Angel started to protest, then turned his gaze ceilingward and threw his hands up in defeat.

From her desk just outside Angel's office, Harmony looked up from the fashion magazine she was leafing through to glare at the laughing couple as they ran past. "Slayer-loving freak," she grumbled.

The phone rang and Harmony answered with a perky voice, "Good morning! Wolfram and—_aagh!_" She yanked the receiver away from her ear as a piercing squeal nearly deafened her.

Buffy giggled as she struggled to keep up with Spike's fast march down the law firm's twisting halls. She couldn't believe she was being this reckless, but after the trauma of their unexpected separation, she and her vampire lover both needed this in the worst way.

Spike abruptly doubled back when he saw one of the offices doors was open. Buffy staggered at the sudden move, but managed to keep her feet. Spike jabbed a finger towards the startled lawyer who'd been catching up on his paperwork. "You. We need your office. Get out."

"What? I don't take orders from—"

"Come on. Out, out!" Spike grabbed the man by the arm and dragged him towards the door. Buffy, meanwhile, hopped onto the desk and proceeded to remove her boots. Considering the fact that the guy was a lawyer working for Evil Incorporated, she didn't feel any guilt over what she and Spike were about to do to his desk. She didn't even hesitate to yank the phone's cord out of the wall when it started to ring.

Spike flung the protesting man out and slammed the door in his face. The lock clicked. There was an irate knocking, to which the vampire shouted, "Piss off!"

Buffy laughed. In a show of uncharacteristic abandon, she swept her arm across the desk's surface, knocking everything to the floor. The pages the lawyer had been scrutinizing scattered hopelessly out of order. Grinning, she leaned back on one hand and crooked a finger at Spike.

The vampire stalked towards her, shedding his duster along the way. His hands gripped the sides of Buffy's face and his mouth attacked hers. Buffy's heart raced and she became light-headed as the kiss went on and on. She fumbled with Spike's belt while his hands slid down her body and reached under the hem of her dress, which Buffy was now very glad to be wearing. As he slipped her panties down her legs, Spike glanced down and laughed in surprise. "Orange polka dots?"

Buffy giggled, "Forgot I had those on." A few weeks back she bought several pairs of silly underwear as a joke and wore them at random times to surprise Spike during intimate moments. Last time it was a bright yellow pair with a smiley face right on the crotch. They'd laughed a good ten minutes over those.

They were laughing now, but there was a trace of hysteria to it. And when Spike fell silent, but kept his head lowered, Buffy knew he was fighting tears. She gently placed her fingers under his chin and coaxed his head up. Her lips found his in a soft kiss. "I'm never leaving you again," she whispered, "Never...never..." She punctuated each word with a kiss.

She lay back on the desk, drawing him down with her. Spike pushed his jeans down past his hips and settled between her open legs. He barely needed any guidance as he slid into her. They made love slowly, their earlier frenzy forgotten. Even when they finally bit into each other's Claim marks, they did so without the usual uncontrolled passion. Yet the experience was no less intense. Mind and soul and demon merged into one complete being, and when it ended, the link sang with the strength of their emotions.

"Love you," Buffy murmured as she carded her fingers through his hair.

Spike kissed the base of her throat. "Love you so much, pet." He tugged down one of her shoulder straps until her breast was exposed. Buffy moaned as his mouth closed over her nipple, suckling it to a hard point.

The door slammed open with so much force the doorknob punched through the wall. Buffy yelped and yanked her dress back up while Spike bellowed, "Harmony! What the bloody hell... Your eyes."

Harmony was in gameface, but what was truly shocking about her appearance was her bright red eyes, weeping blood.

"I'm not...!" the blonde vampire's unnecessary breaths were ragged, "Not yours!"

Buffy and Spike stood and began to carefully back away while at the same time fixing their clothes. The couple and the magically-deranged vampire circled each other until Harmony's back was to the desk and Spike and Buffy were near the door.

"Right. Not mine," the platinum blonde tried to humor her.

"Using me," Harmony accused, "Making me think—_feel—_like yours." Her crimson eyes turned to Buffy. She bared her fangs and pointed a condemning finger at the Slayer. "You! You're the reason!"

"Uh..." Buffy tried to think of something to say, but what good would it do? The ditzy blonde was clearly under some kind of curse.

"He doesn't want me!" Harmony continued, "He wants his Slayer whore!" She shrieked and launched herself at them. _"I'll kill y—"_

Spike punched Harmony so hard that she flew across the room, slid over the desk, and fell out of sight with a loud thud. When she didn't make a reappearance, the couple cautiously peered around the desk to find her in an unconscious heap on the floor.

"You know that whole people busting in on us thing? _So_ over it," Buffy growled, more than a little frustrated.

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his mussed curls. "Maybe some soddin' higher power's got it in for us."

Buffy snorted. Her expression bordered on petulant.

"You okay, luv?"

"Yeah," she muttered, "It's just..._I_ wanted to hit her."

The blonde vampire chuckled and pulled her into a hug.


	18. Chapter 18: Destiny pt1

**A/N:** This covers one of my favorite Angel episodes. An epic grudge match between Angel and Spike, and not to spoil it, but three guesses as to who wins. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the AtS episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _Angel_ are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_You can take what you want, have what you want, but nothing is yours."_—Angelus

Buffy and Spike left the office, with the unconscious Harmony still sprawled on the floor, and nearly bumped into Angel and a skinny woman they'd never seen before.

"I don't know what you put in the water coolers around here," Spike began, "but your secretary just started crying blood and tried to rip us a few new ones."

Angel's brows rose in mild alarm. "Harmony?"

"Had to put her porch lights out. For the best. Sure you understand."

The older vampire snorted, "Oh, yeah. You're a real hero."

"And that's our problem in a nutshell," the skinny woman chirped.

Buffy narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "And you are?"

But it was Angel who somewhat awkwardly answered, "Uh, this is Eve. She's the liaison to the Senior Partners."

"Power behind the throne, eh?" Spike sneered at his grandsire's irritated look.

Buffy interjected, "What's she mean about 'our problem'?"

Angel sighed, "Eve's got this theory."

"Fact, Jack," Eve countered, "Upshot is we've got trouble with a capital T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for Prophecy. Shanshu. Maybe you've heard of it?"

"Nooo." Buffy noted Angel's increasingly uncomfortable fidgeting.

Eve quirked an elegantly penciled eyebrow at the broody vamp. "You never told her? Hm! That's interesting."

"Ain't it, though," Spike drawled, "So, why don't you fill us in, Peaches?"

Angel glared at the younger vampire, then reluctantly explained to Buffy, "The Shanhu Prophecy talks about a champion—a vampire with a soul—who will play a pivotal role in the apocalypse, for good or evil, though which is kinda hazy. But when it's all over...the ensouled vampire becomes human."

"How long have you known about this?" Buffy asked.

"Just three or four...years," her ex mumbled, eyes riveted to the carpet.

The Slayer's mouth fell open in shock. "And it never occurred to you that I might've wanted to know about this?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up."

Spike snorted. Not that he wasn't glad that Angel kept that tidbit to himself; if he hadn't, Buffy probably would've spent her life waiting for her first love's eventual return and never moved on.

Eve spoke up before the argument spiraled out of control, "Back to the subject at hand: The prophecy doesn't actually call Angel by name. And now it turns out that Spike also has a soul and saved the world. There's only supposed to be one candidate for the vampire-with-a-soul hero part in the big show. Two of you, and the wheel of destiny starts to spin off its axis. The universe managed to compensate for a while, but now the cracks are finally starting to show, probably because Spike and Angel have been in close proximity to each other more than once. That's why everything and everyone's going mad. The fabric of reality's starting to unravel."

"Hold on a tick," Spike frowned, "You're blaming this on us?"

"No, she's blaming it on _you,_" Angel snarked.

Eve shrugged her narrow shoulders. "This town might not be big enough for the both of you."

"_Pfft!_ Well, screw this town, then." Spike took Buffy's hand and the two of them headed towards Angel's office. "Screw this devil's fun house, Angel. And screw you, for good measure. Me and the lady here are gatherin' up the rest of our party and goin' across the pond, back to Europe."

"More than okay with that," Buffy agreed. She really didn't like this place.

Eve and Angel hurried after the couple. "Spike," Eve called out, "By 'town' I mean this entire plane of existence. You won't solve this disequilibrium by leaving. You might even make it worse."

She said this just as one of the elevators they were passing opened and a very shell-shocked Gunn stumbled out. "Let's not make it worse," he tremored, loosening his tie, "We don't want worse. I just went to the White Room to see what the big cat had to say."

Before Buffy or Spike could ask what the hell he was talking about, Angel interjected, "And?"

"Cat's gone," Gunn stated flatly, "The White Room, too. Elevator just opened up into a howling abyss. You ever heard a howling abyss?" He shuddered. "Terrible sound!"

Eve seemed deeply concerned by this. "Cat's gone means the conduit's gone, means we're alone in this. No contact with the Senior Partners. Just us and a big, gaping tear in the balance of the universe."

Angel heaved a sigh and reluctantly addressed the platinum blonde vampire, "Spike...stay. Please." He grated out the last word as if it physically pained him. "Europe will still be there after we've worked this out."

"Maybe," Gunn muttered.

"Probably," Angel added.

"How exactly are you gonna work this out?" Buffy asked.

Eve's teeth worried at her plump lower lip. "If there was just some way to determine which one of you the prophecy's really about, maybe—"

"I've read the Shanshu Prophecy," Angel interrupted, "and there's nothing in it about any of this."

"Well, no offense, Angel," Buffy responded, "but I think maybe we should talk to an expert on this Shee-shoo thingie."

"Wes mentioned that one of the members of his department spent years studying the scripture," Gunn suggested.

"Well, gravy," Spike drawled, "Let's just hope this bloke hasn't come down with a case of the crazies."

Angel didn't look convinced. "I'm telling you, I read the prophecy."

* * *

"You didn't read the prophecy." Sirk was an older Englishman who would have fit right in with the Watchers Council. He had the look of a lifelong academic, with the haughty disdain to match. "You read a _translation_ of the prophecy," he proclaimed as he selected a volume from his bookshelf and brought it to his desk, "It's like comparing the King James Bible with the original Aramaic or Hebrew. Much of the flavor, the subtlety of usage, the historical context has been stripped away." He ran a contemptuous eye over the men and women crammed in his office and scoffed, "'Read the prophecy.' May as well have read a twelve-year-old's book report on the subject."

Angel barely stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "Okay, Sirk, point made. Is there anything in the Shanshu that can help us with what's going on?"

"Yeah. What's it say about me?" Spike cut in, earning a scowl from the other vamp. He and Buffy were leaning against the wall by the office door while Angel and Eve took the two chairs situated before Sirk's desk and Gunn stood behind them.

Sirk opened the book and searched through the yellowed pages. They were covered in bizarre scrawls that reminded Buffy of tribal tattoos. "There is a newly translated group of verses which may, perhaps, prove relevant." He cleared his throat and began to recite, "'The root of the tree was split in two, and each then will seek nourishment from the buried river.'"

"Sounds like a gardening tip," Spike muttered.

"It's metaphor." Sirk rolled his eyes. "Please tell me I don't have to explain metaphor to you people."

Angel found it harder to hide his impatience with the snobbish researcher with each snarky remark. "Sirk, the text."

Sirk continued, "Ah, here we are. 'Storm unleashed. The balance will falter until the vampire with the soul drinks from the Cup of Perpetual Torment.'"

"More metaphor?" Buffy guessed.

"No, that's real."

Several pairs of eyes blinked in surprise.

"So, there's a cup?" Eve asked.

"'Perpetual Torment'?" Spike frowned, "Know that's not gonna taste very good."

Sirk ignored the remarks. "'He will have the weight of worlds upon him, binding his limbs, grinding his bones to meal, until he saves creation...or destroys it.'"

Spike quirked a scarred eyebrow. "Uh, right. So, what's in it for me?"

Another annoyed glance from Angel.

"The vampire will have his past washed clean," Sirk replied.

"And live again in mortal form," Angel concluded in a weary tone, "Yeah, that part I know."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," Spike grumbled.

"So, Angel drinks from this cup," Gunn stated, "Our computers go back online, phones stop ringing, and people quit turning into maniacs?"

Spike straightened from his slouch. "Who says it's Angel supposed to take this swig?" he protested, "Who says it's about him at all?"

Angel let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, come on, Spike. You really think this is about you?"

Buffy bristled at her ex's dismissive attitude. "And why the hell not?" she argued, "He's as much a champion as you are."

Spike couldn't resist a smug grin at his grandsire's startled reaction.

Once again, Eve stepped in. "Let's focus on the problem at hand, kids. We don't want to be wrong about this."

"There _is_ no wrong," Sirk declared, "The drinking of the cup is predestined. That can't be changed. Whoever drinks from it was meant to. And when one is confirmed as the central figure of the prophecy, the universe should realign itself."

"So, where is this cup thing?" Gunn asked, "Does it say?"

Sirk consulted the text again. "It does offer some details, yes. Housed in the hidden city of Petra. Mm-hmm." He ran a bony finger over the lines of bizarre text. "Disappears during the Crusades. Surfaces again in the Vatican. Vanishes in the third year of the Inquisition. Then... Yes, interesting." He looked up from the book and confidently stated, "It's in Nevada."

"Nevada?" Buffy questioned, her tone doubtful.

"Death Valley, to be exact," Sirk pointed at the relevant scribbles, "'The earth will thrash and mark the appearance of the cup at the Columns. And the desert will swallow cup and house whole, and—'" he paused, "This can only be loosely translated. 'And the fat lady will sing no more.'"

Buffy didn't know whether to roll her eyes or laugh outright. What a load of horsesh—

"Opera," Angel spoke up, earning him several dismayed looks. "The Columns was an opera house in Death Valley," he explained, "It was buried in an earthquake in '38. Made headlines in Los Angeles. It's only a few hours away. I can get there and back before morning."

"Angel, we got a seriously major crisis goin' on here," Gunn argued, "Might not be the best time to go runnin' after some mystical cup."

While they debated, Buffy sensed what Spike intended to do and met his eyes. She didn't say a word, or even protest through the link. This wasn't about some vague prophecy, this was about Spike's issues with Angel and his need to find closure once and for all. She understood that, just as Spike understood that she didn't believe one word about this whole universe-ending magical-cup-quest nonsense. Future Spike had told Buffy to listen to her gut, and right now her gut was telling her that this was all a bunch of garbage. And what pissed her off was the fact that Angel was gullible enough to believe every word Eve and this snotty academic spouted. Did it totally slip his mind that these people worked for Wolfram & Hart? He shouldn't trust anything they said.

As for the craziness going down right now; with the phones and computers not working and the building under lockdown, there was no way to know what was going on in the rest of the world. But Buffy was willing to bet that everything outside of W&H was just fine. They only had Eve's word that reality was breaking down. For all they knew, this was some kind of spell.

Buffy offered the faintest smile as Spike stealthily left the office without anyone else noticing. Maybe this was just playing into the baddies' hands, but Buffy knew Spike was a lot more savvy than most gave him credit for. She wasn't worried. Well...not much.

"I really don't have a choice," Angel went on, oblivious to the other vamp's departure, "If it's there, I'm just gonna have to accept the prophecy's real and hope that it stops this madness. In the meantime, keep this place quarantined 'til I get—" Angel frowned as he finally noticed they were one vampire short. "Where's Spike?"

All eyes turned to the Slayer, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. She shrugged, unconcerned, "Guess he wanted a head start."

Alarmed, Angel jumped to his feet. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What for? I mean, you said it yourself, the prophecy's not about him. So, it's not like you have anything to worry about. Right?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Angel gritted his teeth and stormed out of the office. Buffy left a moment later at a slower pace. She went straight to Angel's office, where Willow, Tara, and the two Slayers waited with Sam Lawson. The witches were relieved to see her step through the door.

"So, what's all the bugaboo?" Willow queried.

Buffy brought everyone up to speed. She also told them of her doubts and why she had them.

"You think this is what future Spike meant?" Tara asked.

Buffy shrugged. "It's gotta be. Since this whole thing started, my instincts have been screaming at me that it's all a lie. Whatever's going on, it's not what Eve or Sirk say it is."

Willow pursed her lips in thought. "If this is some kind of curse, we can probably set up a protective counter spell. I-It wouldn't be enough to take care of the whole building, though. Maybe just this one room."

"Good enough," Buffy decided, "You guys stay in this room 'til I tell you it's safe. Don't let anyone except me or Spike in. And whatever happens," she pointed towards their captive vamp, "don't let anything happen to him."

Sam was awake at this point, still cuffed and tied to the chair. At Buffy's words, his mouth twisted in a cynical smirk. "Well, don't I feel special."

Buffy approached the vampire. "You _are_ special."

"Oh, really? How do you figure?"

Buffy pulled over another chair and sat down in front of him. "You know who I am?

Sam regarded her for a long moment, his eyes cold and assessing. "You're a Slayer."

She nodded. "For a while I was _the_ Slayer. Now there's more of us. Like them," she indicated the girls standing guard over him. "Happened last year, in fact. My friend Willow cast a spell, and all the Slayers of the world were Called. But what most people don't know is, it wasn't just the Slayers."

The two girls' eyes grew wider as Buffy proceeded to tell them about the Intendeds. Sam, by contrast, became less and less expressive until his face was little more than a mask. Buffy realized this was a defense mechanism. It wasn't that Sam didn't believe her; it was that he was afraid to. Vampires were wild animals in many ways. Any show of weakness could mean death, even—_especially_—from their own kind. Spike had told Buffy stories of vampires turning on members of their own nests if they perceived there was something "wrong" with them. That was a big reason why Spike tended to go it alone, or just him and Dru, unless he had some scheme that required he gather up some minions. But whenever that happened, he could never let his guard down, because part of him knew even then that he was different.

"You feel it, don't you? That tug." Buffy touched a hand to her chest. "We feel it, too. It's the Dark in us and the Light in you pulling at each other. You can fight it, you can run away from us, but it'll always pull you back, because that's the reason you exist."

"What? To be some lonely Slayer's pet?" Sam's voice was scornful.

Buffy shook her head. "To be an equal. A partner. To give each other's lives meaning. 'Cause there's just no point to it all otherwise."

She stood, headed for the door. "I'm gonna see what I can do to help with the crazies out there."

"You s-sure that's a good idea?" a worried Tara asked.

Buffy looked back at her friends. "I can't stay cooped up in here while I'm waiting for Spike to come back," she admitted.

One of the Slayers held up the Scythe. "You wanna take this with you?"

Buffy considered, then shook her head. "I'll be okay without it. Lock the door behind me."

The Slayer left. Tara and Willow got to work on the protective spell. And Sam and his guards pondered all they'd learned.

* * *

It didn't take Spike long to locate the motor pool. Took even less time to intuit which would be Angel's favorite vehicle. As if to confirm his choice, he noticed the Great Poof had left his cellphone in the passenger seat. Spike chuckled as he revved the engine and peeled out of the underground garage. Once on the highway out of town, he switched on the radio and twirled the dial until he picked up a punk rock station. He cranked up the volume and banged his head along to the beat.

He'd just reached the open desert when the cellphone started trilling. Spike turned down the radio, reached for the phone and flipped it open. "Yello!"

_"You took my Viper," _Angel's sullen voice responded.

Spike grinned smugly. "My Viper now, mate. Possession's nine-tenths. Oughta know that, runnin' a law firm and such."

_"You think this is a game?"_ the irate vampire exclaimed, _"People are dying!"_

"And one of us is going to stop it. Hey, what d'you know, I vote for me."

_"There's no voting. It's a prophecy, and the Shanshu's not about you, Spike."_

Spike sighed in mock sympathy. "Still can't accept it, can you? Sad, really. All these years believing you're the signified monkey, only to find out you're just a big hunk of nobody cares." He could almost swear he heard the pillock's teeth grinding.

_"I really wish you'd burned up in that Hellmouth," _Angel growled

"But I didn't, did I?" the peroxide blonde countered, "Saved the world and lived to tell about it. Wonder why that is? Oh, wait. 'Cause I'm the one, you git!"

_"Spike, I don't have time to—"_

"_Krr_," Spike made a staticky sound in the back of his throat. Childish, yes, but highly satisfying. "What's that? I'm losing you. You're— _Krr_. What do they call it? _Krr._ Oh, right, breaking up. You're breaking up."

_"Spike, don—"_

He abruptly ended the call and tossed the phone over his shoulder into the backseat. "Ponce."

The rest of the drive was uneventful. The horizon was just showing the first hint of the impending sunrise when the ruins of the partially buried opera house loomed into view. Spike parked the car and got out. He looked back the way he'd come, saw the faint spark of headlights in the distance. Angel catching up. Spike hurried into the opera house.

The Columns was a maze of ancient packing crates, old show props, and broken timbers, all coated in a thick layer of dust—except parts of the floor, Spike noted. Almost like someone came here recently and tried to cover their footprints. If Spike were as fixated on this Shanshu rubbish like Angel was, he probably wouldn't have noticed. But Spike cared sod all about the prophecy. He had no desire to become human again. As far as he was concerned, forming the Claim with Buffy was all the redemption he needed.

But he couldn't let Angel win. Not this time. His whole life, ever since Drusilla sired him, Spike always lost to Angelus in everything. Even in Dru's affections. That didn't change just because the ponce got all souled up and changed his name to Angel. Spike's grandsire still acted like the alpha dog, always beating the younger vampire down, acting all smug and superior. Always being first. Even Buffy had loved the Great Poof first (and still had the emotional scars to prove it). But Spike was hellbent on making sure that this time _he_ would be first. He would beat Angel and take away the thing he desired, just as the older vampire had done to him so many times before.

It didn't take long to find this so-called Cup of Perpetual Torment. The gaudy thing was displayed on top of a pillar, with a sodding spotlight on it, for god's sake! It was like something out of an Indiana Jones film. Buffy was right, this whole situation was hogwash from start to finish.

Spike crept close enough to see the cup was filled with some kind of liquid. He leaned down, sniffed, then dipped his finger in and tasted the drop of liquid. Spike threw his head back and laughed. Yep. Total bullshit. Not that it mattered. This was just the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the derelict opera house. Spike leapt up onto the scaffolding once used by the lighting technicians and hurried to the opposite end until he was looking down on his grandsire.

"Here we are, then," Spike's voice rang out, "Two vampire heroes competing to wet our whistles with a drink of light, refreshing torment."

Angel glowered up at him. "Is that what you think you are?" he spat, "A hero?"

"Saved the world, didn't I?"

The older vampire scoffed, "Once. Talk to me after you've done it a couple more times."

"Done talking, mate. Got a prophecy needs fulfilling." Spike raised his hand in a mocking salute. "Ta."

"Spike. Damn it!"

Spike smirked as he sauntered back to where the "mystical" cup waited. He made sure to go slow enough for Angel to find it at about the same time. He jumped down from the scaffolding, his landing soundless, and moved to stand beside his grandsire. He acted like this was his first time seeing the cup as both of them gazed upon it for a thoughtful moment.

"Thought it'd be a little less goldeny," Spike mused, unaware that he sounded like Buffy for a second, "what with the torment and all."

Angel made a faint hum of agreement. "So, what do we do now?"

Spike pretended to think about it a second before his fist suddenly lashed out and struck the other vampire's jaw. The move caught Angel by surprise and sent him sprawling. The blonde vampire chuckled, "What d'you think?"


	19. Chapter 19: Destiny pt2

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the AtS episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _Angel_ are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Funny thing about throwing the universe out of whack;_

_not as fun as it sounds."_—Eve

"Come on," Spike stalked towards the older vampire, "Let's see how much soul you really got in there."

Angel sighed, "Spike, we don't have time for this." It was his usual fallback phrase whenever his grandchilde irritated him, which was pretty much always. _I don't have time for this, Spike. Spike, this isn't the time._ Like he was some annoying six-year-old or a puppy always underfoot.

Spike crouched down in front of him, a sneer twisting his angular features. "Keep your knickers dry, Sally. You're not gonna last that long."

Just as the blonde vampire hoped, the words goaded Angel into action. "Fine," he jumped to his feet, "We'll do it your way."

Spike ducked his first punch, but the next few blows came too fast for him to avoid. Much to Angel's annoyance, the younger vampire's grin actually got bigger. Then Spike grabbed Angel by the front of his coat and flung him up on to the scaffolding. Angel landed hard, his left hand slapping against one of the numerous props scattered atop the platform. Unfortunately for him, the prop he touched happened to be a large, ornate cross. Angel jumped up with a hiss of pain and angrily kicked the cross down off the platform. Spike laughed uproariously as the cross clattered to the ground a short distance from him.

"Oh, yeah. Look at you," he taunted and paced in front of the pillar where the prize waited, ignoring it completely, "thinkin' you're the big savior. Fighting for truth, justice, and soccer moms. But you still can't lay flesh on a cross without smellin' like bacon, can you?"

"Like you're any different," Angel retorted.

"Well, that's just it," Spike halted and gazed up at the older vamp, "I am. And you know it. You had a soul forced on you as a curse. Make you suffer for all the horrible things you've done. But me, I _earned_ my soul. That's why it didn't tear me apart like it did you. That's why I haven't been wallowin' in guilt, eating rats. I bloody well deserve this soul." With preternatural grace, he effortlessly leapt up onto the scaffolding with Angel. "It's my destiny."

Angel sneered, "Really? Always figured you got it just to get into Buffy's pants."

Spike's face contorted. He saw several lengths of rebar leaning against the platform's railing and grabbed one, wielding it like a fighting staff. Angel dodged his swing and somersaulted down to the ground, walked straight towards the waiting cup. Before he reached it, however, Spike flung the rebar down like a javelin and the end embedded itself in the floor mere inches from Angel's foot. Spike then grabbed another rebar and launched himself at the other vampire, a loud battle cry erupting from his throat. Angel barely had time to snatch up the rebar in front of him and block the platinum blonde's strike. Sparks flew as metal collided against metal. And the fight began in earnest.

* * *

Buffy helped subdue a few crazies and wound up joining Fred, Wes, Gunn, and Eve in the science lab, which was also functioning as a sort of triage for the afflicted eye-bleeders. Fred and Wes were trying to figure out what was causing the outbreak of madness while the rest mainly stayed out of their way and fretted.

Gunn watched as yet another drugged and restrained victim was wheeled into the lab. "Six more cases. That's, what, a thirty percent increase in the last hour?"

"Thirty-two point for, but who's counting?" Fred muttered as she scrutinized a blood sample under the microscope.

"Any idea what the specific trigger is?" Eve asked.

Wes replied with a weary shake of the head, "None. There's no common thread. Gender, age, position, psych profile, blood type, med history. There doesn't seem to be any pattern to this thing."

"Seems like it could affect any of us," Fred added.

Eve frowned at this unfortunate news. "Is there anything we can—"

"Why are you answering her questions?" Gunn's eerily calm voice interrupted, "We don't trust this bitch." He was leaning over the counter, his head lowered. When he looked up, everyone was alarmed to see his eyes were red and weeping blood, just like the other crazies. "She'll kill us all."

Before anyone could react, he grabbed Eve by the neck, slammed her against the nearest wall, and started yelling in her face, "What are you! Huh? What's really in there?" He laughed as the terrified woman started to choke. "Well, guess you gotta breathe. Good to know."

Fred tried to inject him with a sedative. Gunn viciously backhanded her and she lay stunned on the floor. Wes tried to wrestle the crazed man away from Eve, but Gunn displayed the enhanced strength of all madman and easily shrugged the Englishman off. "You liar!" he screamed and tightened his stranglehold on the terrified woman, "You think we don't know that you're behind this, huh? That you've been playin' us? What are you? A monster? _Show me!_"

A slender pair of arms came around him in a full Nelson and yanked him back. Gunn soon found himself lying face-down on the floor while his opponent pressed her knee into the small of his back.

"Fred!" Buffy shouted.

The woman scrambled for the injector and pressed it into Gunn's arm. Within moments the powerful sedative took hold and Gunn's body went limp.

Buffy sat back on her heels with a relieved sigh, turned and saw Wes more or less comforting Eve while she coughed and rubbed her bruised throat. Buffy was almost sorry to realize the skinny woman wasn't seriously hurt. Crazy or not, Gunn had been voicing the same thoughts the Slayer had been entertaining since she met Eve. Those doubts didn't go away just because the woman was almost throttled. It didn't change anything. Buffy still didn't trust her.

* * *

The metal bars whirled and sparked as the two vampires dueled. At times they moved so fast, no human eye could have followed them. Then Angel got in a lucky punch which caused Spike to fall back onto a ramp. The white-blonde vampire grinned as blood spilled from his nose and stained his lips and teeth. "Used to hit a lot harder, gramps."

"No, your head's just gotten thicker," Angel snarled.

Spike got back to their feet and the fight continued even faster than before. Metal clanged and sparked. Angel relentlessly drove the younger vampire farther up the ramp until he viciously knocked Spike through the wooden railing onto the scaffolding once again. Spike barely regained his feet in time to block yet another blow from Angel's rebar. He stared into his grandsire's hard eyes and said in a voice full of calm certainty, "You're not gonna win this time."

With a twist, he disarmed the older vamp, then struck him across the chest hard enough to send him tumbling off the platform. Angel grunted in pain as he bounced down a series of crates stacked like giant steps. When he finally hit the ground, he was too stunned to do anything but lie there.

Spike gazed coldly down at him. "Vampire with a soul." He jumped down onto the tallest stack of crates. _Thud._ "Nobody knows what side he's gonna fight on..." _thud,_ "when the big show comes down." A final hop, and he was standing directly over the downed vampire. "Except we already know which side you're on, don't we? Already made your choice. Traded in your cape and tights for a nice, comfy chair at Wolfram and bloody Hart."

He made as if to drive his rebar through Angel like a spear, but the older vampire's reflexes kicked in and he caught the metal pole inches from its goal. "Little more complicated than that."

Angel kicked upward, the heels of his shoes connecting with the underside of Spike's chin, sending the other vampire careening onto another packing crate. Angel then performed a showy backflip to regain his feet and tossed the rebar aside. As he sauntered towards the waiting cup, he tossed a final disdainful remark over his shoulder, "You always were a bit simple, _Willy_."

Spike's blood boiled at the hateful nickname. He leapt forward and cannoned into his grandsire. The two vampires rolled across the floor for a moment, then quickly stood at the same time. Spike gripped the lapels of Angels leather jacket while Angel had one hand wrapped around Spike's neck.

"Come on, hero," Spike rasped through his constricted throat, "Tell me more." He landed a punch on Angel's cheek. "Teach me what it means." Another punch. "And I'll tell you why you can't stand the bloody sight of me!"

Angel retaliated with a punch of his own. "Tell it to your therapist."

Spike yelled as he drove his fist into the older vampire's stomach, doubling him over, then struck his elbow down on the back of Angel's bowed head. Angel dropped to his knees, wobbling as Spike gripped the collar of his shirt and forced him to look up. Spike hissed into his face, punctuating each statement with another brutal hit. "'Cause every time you look at me..." punch, "you see all the dirty little things I've done..." punch, "all the lives I've taken," punch, "because of _you!_ Drusilla sired me, but _you_," he spat, "you made me a monster." A final hit, then Spike abruptly walked away.

Angel almost toppled over, but he somehow managed to stay mostly upright on his knees. "I didn't make you, Spike," he slurred through bloodied lips, "I just opened up the door and let the real you out."

He twisted around just in time to see the large cross he'd singed his hand on earlier smack him head-on with enough force to send his body airborne. He crashed into the closest wall and slid down to the floor.

"You never knew the real me," Spike declared, almost softly. He tossed the large cross aside. Angel, in his dazed state, didn't even notice that the cross didn't burn the other vampire's hands.

"Too busy tryin' to see your own reflection," Spike growled, closing the distance between them, "praying there was someone as disgusting as you in the world, so you could stand to live with yourself." He stopped, stood tall and straight before the older vampire. "Take a long look, hero. I'm _nothing_ like you."

Angel's lips twisted in an ugly sneer that Spike was all too familiar with, and which would've repulsed Buffy had she seen it. "No," Angel rasped, "You're less. That's why Buffy will never really love you. She only settled for you because she couldn't be with me. You were just convenient."

Those spiteful words hit a nerve. Even though Spike knew they weren't true, there were times before the Claim was made that he carried those same ugly doubts in his head.

Teeth bared, Spike grabbed Angel by the front of his jacket and pulled him upright. "Guess that means she's thinking of you all those times I'm puttin' it to her," he spat.

Angel snarled and took hold of Spike's wrists. He forcefully removed the younger vamp's grip and struck him across the face. He then grabbed hold of Spike's arm, spun them around, and flung the platinum blonde into a stack of discarded timbers. The wood splintered from the impact; Spike was lucky none of it pierced his chest. Angel stormed over and dragged the younger vampire to his feet, only to grunt in pain when Spike suddenly drove a sharp fragment of wood into his forearm. Angel kicked him away and pulled the makeshift stake from his arm.

"Alright," he panted, letting his features morph into his gameface, "Let's finish this."

Spike grinned, slipped into his own gameface, and the two master vampires charged each other with echoing roars.

* * *

Eve was sitting in a chair in Fred's office, looking for all the world like a traumatized little girl. Buffy stood to the side of the door with her arms crossed, ostensibly watching over her. Fred entered the room with a glass of water. She knelt in front of Eve and handed her the glass. "Take small sips. It's gonna hurt to swallow for a while."

Eve coughed when she tried to swallow.

"You're gonna be okay," Fred soothed, "Just—"

"You don't have to pretend to care," the other woman responded in a rough voice.

Fred blinked. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Fred. I know what you think of me. What you all..." Eve turned her head away, her expression deeply pained.

Fred shifted guiltily. "Look, what Charles said about us thinking you're behind everything... He was under the effects—"

Eve abruptly set the glass down on a side table and rose from her seat. She paused at the door and regarded Fred with big, sorrowful eyes. "I'm not the bad guy."

As soon as she left, Buffy strode over to Fred and murmured, "She's laying a guilt-trip on you. You know that, right?"

Fred eyed the petite blonde uncertainly. "W-We really haven't been fair to her..."

Buffy snorted, "Please! She's liaison to some of the most powerful demons running one of the largest multi-dimensional evil corporations. You think almost getting strangled's the worst thing that ever happened to her? You think she hasn't done worse to other people who deserved it a lot less?"

Fred chewed her lip. Intellectually, she knew Buffy was right. But she was naturally kind-hearted and didn't like to see anyone suffer, no matter who they were. "I should go check on her."

Buffy placed a hand on her arm. "I'll go. You and Wes keep trying to figure out how to stop this crazy mojo."

Fred mustered a smile. "Okay. Thanks."

Buffy followed Eve into one of the many hallways that twisted through this rat-maze of a building. Eve paused when she realized she was being followed and waited for the Slayer to catch up. She was still wearing her sad little waif expression. "What do you want?"

"How's the neck?" Buffy casually inquired.

Eve shrugged, touched her fingertips to the bruised flesh. "I'll live."

"Good to know."

What happened next was so sudden Eve didn't even have time to react. The next thing she knew, her back was slammed against the wall and Buffy's hand was clamped over her mouth. The Slayer's right arm was braced across Eve's shoulders, but it wouldn't take much to shift her arm up to the woman's already abused throat. Eve's fingers scrabbled uselessly against the restraining forearm, her eyes wide and genuinely terrified.

"If you thought eye-bleeding Gunn was scary then you obviously don't know much about Slayers," Buffy stated, deathly calm, "I'm the thing monsters have nightmares about. And right now, I am seriously pissed off. I _know_ you're behind whatever the hell's happening right now. I don't have any proof, and I don't know why you're doing it, but I know it's you. Now, the way I see it, Angel chose to work in this evil place, so he brought all this on himself." Her face twisted as she let her rage seep through. "But I really don't appreciate you dragging Spike into your sick little game. He's mine. And if you ever try to use him again, I swear to god I will snap every bone in your twiggy body 'til you beg me to kill you."

Buffy stepped even closer, and despite the fact that Eve was several inches taller than her, there was no doubt as to who was the more dangerous of the two women. "Nod if you believe me," the Slayer commanded.

Eve's head jerked up and down.

Buffy's face relaxed into an almost friendly smile. "Good!" She released her hold and lightly shoved Eve away, almost causing the other woman to lose her balance and fall. Buffy took no notice, however. She was already striding away without a backward glance, her ponytail swinging jauntily behind her.

* * *

Spike hissed as the stake's sharp point sliced across his chest.

"How's it feel?" Angel taunted.

Spike grabbed his wrist and forced him to drag the stake's tapered end across his own chest. "You tell me."

Angel kneed him in the stomach. Spike twisted around and drove his elbow into his opponent's back. The two of them were soon wrestling for possession of the stake. Spike abruptly brought his knee up and the stake flew out of Angel's grasp straight into the air. The white-blonde vampire then executed a spin-kick that knocked the older vampire flat on his back. Within seconds Spike caught the stake and crouched over his helpless grandsire. He was elated when he looked in Angel's eyes and saw that he knew Spike had beaten him. He won! But just as he was about to plunge the stake into his grandsire's heart, he hesitated. With a frustrated growl, he drove the jagged piece of wood through Angel's shoulder instead. Angel shouted in pain, then lay gasping unnecessary breaths.

Spike stood, let his vampiric features melt away. "Probably should've dusted you. But honestly," he shrugged, "I don't wanna hear _her_ bitch about it." He turned and swaggered towards the pillar and its promised Cup of Perpetual Torment.

Angel pulled the stake from his shoulder with a pained grunt and tried to sit up. His face had also returned to its human guise. He called out just as Spike reached for the golden cup, "Spike, wait! Wait." He groaned, managed to push his upper body off the floor. "That's not a prize you're holding," he warned, "It's not a trophy. It's a burden. It's a cross. One you're gonna have to bear 'til it burns you to ashes. Believe me, I know."

Spike hesitated, his head cocked as he listened.

Angel pressed on, thinking he was getting through to his grandchilde. "So ask yourself, is this really the destiny that was meant for you? Do you even really want it? Or is it that you just want to take something away from me?"

The corner of Spike's mouth twitched. He knew his grandsire too well. Angel sounded completely sincere, all tortured and remorseful. Some of it might even be true. But Spike knew that what Angel was really trying to do was manipulate him into backing down. It was a trait leftover from his Angelus persona, one which he had no qualms using, even on those he claimed to love, to get the results _he_ wanted. Spike was sure he'd even used the tactic on Buffy once or twice.

Spike pretended to actually consider Angel's words, then he shrugged and flippantly replied, "Bit of both." Without further pause, he picked up the goblet and drained its contents in a single gulp.

"Spike!" Angel struggled to his feet and almost fell over again when he tried to take a step, but he was too late. His expression fell as his defeat sank in.

Spike played it up. He kept his head tilted back and let the cup fall from his hand to clunk hollowly on the floor. He gasped dramatically. "It's..." He met Angel's shocked gaze, then dropped the act with a laugh. "It's Mountain Dew, you pillock!"

"Wh-What!" Angel gawped, his mind struggling to catch up.

"We're bein' played, you half-wit. Have been this whole time."

"You knew?" Angel's brows drew together in rising anger.

Spike scoffed, "Course I knew. Got here way before you did, didn't I? Plenty of time to check this cup out and figure out it was all a load of bollocks."

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" the older vampire exclaimed.

"What, and pass up the change to finally get one over on you?" Spike chuckled at his grandsire's expression and sauntered towards the exit. "Come on, Peaches. I'll bet ya anything the place is gonna start settling down soon as we get back."

Angel stared at the platinum blonde's retreating back for a moment, jaws and fists clenched in anger, before he finally growled in resignation and followed.

* * *

Fred gasped as soon as Angel entered the lab, battered and bloody. "Angel! God, what happened?"

"I fell down...some stairs," he mumbled, "Big stairs."

Buffy arched an eyebrow in disbelief. Fred didn't look convinced by the feeble lie, either.

Wes brushed aside the subject altogether and brought his leader up to speed. "We've tried everything. Medical, mystical. Nothing is stopping it. It only seems to be getting worse."

"What about the cup?" Fred asked, "Did you—"

"It was a fake. Somebody set us up."

Buffy was the only one unsurprised by this revelation.

"Who?" Wes asked.

Angel shrugged, then winced from the movement. "I don't know. Sirk was the one who sent us there. Maybe he's—"

"Gone," an equally black-and-blue Spike entered the lab, "Cleaned out his office and pulled a puff of smoke."

Buffy smirked at her ex. "Stairs, huh?"

Angel chose to ignore her remark. "Alright. Sirk's gone, the cup's a fake, but the madness is real. So what're we gonna do about it?"

Gunn's voice startled everyone as he spoke up from the gurney he was strapped to, "I say we start by untying the brother." His eyes were open, back to their normal brown despite the blood that still smeared the skin around them.

All around the lab, the rest of the afflicted started to wake up, completely sane.

Harmony puzzled over her restraints. "Am I in trouble?"

Buffy reached over and undid the blonde vampire's straps while Angel freed Gunn. The street-hood-turned-lawyer sat up with a weary groan. "What the hell happened?"

* * *

"Senior Partners stepped in," Eve explained a short while later, after everyone had cleaned up and gathered in the conference room. "Apparently, they were working on the problem since it started. They managed to temporarily stabilize the universal equilibrium."

"Well, that's convenient," Buffy quipped. Eve tensed, but didn't look her way or otherwise react.

"What about Sirk and this fantasy he fed us about the cup?" Angel inquired.

Eve shrugged. "The Partners don't know a thing about it. They're as angry as you."

"Really doubt that," the vampire muttered.

Buffy didn't even try to hide her cynical smirk as Eve continued to voice her platitudes.

"Don't worry, Angel. Sirk can't hide for long. We'll bring him in, find out who put him up to it. Now, if you'll excuse me," she rose from her seat in a single, graceful move, "I have to go home and ice my neck." For just the briefest instant, her eyes flicked across the table towards Buffy. Her meaning was clear enough; she wasn't going to forget Buffy's little warning anytime soon.

"Well," Buffy stood, "It's been a blast, but we've gotta make tracks. Got a vampire to deliver back to Europe, after all."

Fred hurried over to give the Slayer a farewell hug. "It was really great meeting you."

"Likewise," Buffy grinned, then turned to Wesley. "Good to see you again, Wes."

The former Watcher smiled and returned the sentiment.

"Bye, Gunn. Sorry about the whole tackling and drugging you thing."

Gunn chuckled and accepted her proffered hand.

"Angel." Buffy simply nodded to her ex, then she and Spike took each other by the hand and headed for the exit.

Angel saw them pause just outside the door, but still in view from where he sat. Buffy turned to face Spike and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. It was far from passionate, but the emotions behind the act, the way they looked at each other when they finally drew apart, was so intense it made Angel want to look away. It wasn't an act. It wasn't a way of showing up Angel; he doubted he was even on their radar right then. It was real, and it was painful for the souled vampire to witness. For a second he even entertained the thought that the matching bite scars on their necks meant... But, no, that couldn't be. The Claim was just a myth.

"You okay?" Gunn seated himself on the edge of the table beside Angel, his face concerned.

"I don't know," Angel sighed, feeling every bit his two hundred-plus years, "He beat me, Gunn."

Gunn frowned in puzzlement. "Who, Spike? Looks to me like he got as good as he—"

"No. He _beat_ me."

"You mean to the cup?" Gunn queried, "The make-believe fairy tale cup? So what?"

"No, you don't— It's not about the cup." Angel struggled to find the words to explain. "He won the fight, Gunn. For the first time. In the end, he..." _He won her._ "Spike was stronger. He wanted it more." _She wanted him more._

Gunn laid a sympathetic hand on the vampire's shoulder. "Angel, it doesn't mean anything."

"What if it does?" Angel turned his melancholy gaze on his friend. "What if it means...that I'm not the one?"

Gunn wished he had an answer to that.


	20. Chapter 20: Incoming

**A/N: **Okay, back to the graphic novels. This little storyline actually took place in the comics around the same time as "Time Of Your Life" Hope you like it. Thanks for the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_All the ladies in the house go 'yeah.'"_—Xander Harris

It was decided that since they couldn't risk unchaining Sam, and therefore couldn't take him on even a privately chartered flight without drawing attention, Willow would teleport him. Considering the distance that had to be crossed, and the fact that she'd already done quite a bit of magic over the last couple of days, the number of people she could use the teleportation spell on had to be kept to a minimum. Buffy insisted that she be one of them, since she didn't quite trust a less experienced Slayer to act as a lone escort. She and Sam would be sent directly to London where Giles and Faith would figure out how to work with him and eventually, hopefully, gain his trust. Tara would go as well to finish refining her locator spell, now that she had an un-Claimed Intended to use for reference.

As for Willow and Spike, they would take a commercial flight back to Scotland.

Buffy hugged her vampire lover while Willow prepared the teleportation spell. "I'm sorry. I really wish we didn't have to split up like this after everything."

"I know, luv. It's fine." Spike smiled reassuringly. "Shouldn't take you long to get back. I'll hold down the fort, see how the Little Bit's dealin' with her horsey condition."

Buffy laughed. "God, I almost forgot about Dawn's new curse. Seems like all the weirdness is just piling up at once."

"Don't it always." Spike gently tilted her head up and kissed her lips. "I'll be fine, luv. Long as I can feel you."

Buffy kissed him back, a little longer this time. They only drew apart when Willow told them the spell was ready. The redhead said her own goodbye to Tara, while Buffy took Sam Lawson from his Slayer guards and led him to the chalk circle in the middle of the San Francisco HQ's training floor. Sam's arms were bound to his sides with heavy chains, and his ankles were shackled. They weren't taking any risks with him. Fortunately, he seemed too intrigued by this unexpected situation to resent being tied up that much.

Tara joined them in the circle, then Willow chanted the necessary incantation. There was the expected bright flash, and when everyone's vision cleared, the trio within the circle was gone.

Spike smiled in relief when he felt Buffy's mental nudge through the link, nudged her back to let her know everything was okay. He looked at Willow and offered her his arm. "Let's go home, Red."

Willow grinned, linked her arm with his, and the two of them headed for the exit.

* * *

Spike never thought he'd be so happy to see the castle again. It wasn't that he didn't like the place; he just wasn't used to having a permanent home. He'd spent so much of his long unlife moving from place to place, country to country, that he never really got attached to any one place. Having somewhere that really felt like home was a marvel to him.

Xander took one look at the vampire's battered face and quirked an eyebrow. "Bar brawl?"

Spike grinned. "You should see the other guy."

"Well, things weren't so exciting on the home front," Xander sighed, "Dare I tempt fate and say it was almost boring?"

"How's Dawn?"

The former carpenter's smile turned rueful. "Still mopy. Apparently, lugging around a horse's behind isn't the way to bolster a teenaged girl's self-esteem. Plus there's this stallion from a neighboring farm that keeps following her around."

Spike laughed. "Poor Niblet. Maybe I oughta take a crack at cheerin' her up."

"Sheah!" Xander snorted, "Good luck with that. She's probably hanging out in the field outside the wall, 'round where you can see the forest."

A beautiful sunset glimpsed beyond the mountains reminded Spike that he still had to readjust to the time zone. He easily picked out Dawn's lonely figure in the distance. The whelp was right; she did look amazing as a centaur. But judging from the slump of her shoulders, she didn't see it that way.

Spike tramped through the shin-high grass, thankful that he didn't have to worry about ticks (they had no interest in undead blood). "Oi, Niblet!"

The girl started, hastily wiped her mouth. As Spike neared, he noticed a bit of grass clinging to her lip. "Missed a spot," he pointed.

Dawn sulked and brushed it away. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not, pet. Considerin' what I gotta feed on, I'm hardly one to judge."

The girl crossed her arms while her hooves scuffed at the ground. "I hate this. I eat grass, I gotta sleep standing up, flies keep buzzing around my ginormous ass, and Xander keeps calling me Flicka!"

Spike managed to keep a straight face. "It could be worse, Platelet."

"Worse? This one girl asked if I wanted a sugar cube! God!" She stamped a hoof. "I so wanted to kick her."

"I know it's hard, Bit, but you just gotta keep reminding yourself that it's only temporary. And you gotta admit, this is better than smashin' up Tokyo."

Dawn lowered her gaze. "I had fun smashing up Tokyo," she muttered.

The vampire smirked. "Sooo," he drawled, "the Little Bit's got a destructive streak. Who knew?"

They fell into a semi-comfortable silence for a moment. Dawn finally broke it by asking, "Is Buffy back, too?"

Spike shook his head. "She's in London. Oughta be back soon, though."

The girl made a non-committal _mmm_ and shuffled her hooves. "Um, look, I...I kind of gotta go."

Spike's brow creased in puzzlement. "Go where?"

"You know..." She fidgeted. "I gotta _go_."

"You've gotta—Oh!" He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Almost. "Right,well," he cleared his throat, "Better head on back and give you a bit of privacy, then."

"Thanks. Uh, c-can we talk some more later?"

Spike smiled fondly at the teen. "Absolutely, Niblet. I can tell you all about the well-deserved arse-kicking I gave Angel."

Dawn's grin brightened. "I'd like that." She never was Angel's biggest fan; further proof, in Spike's opinion, that the chit was a smart one.

Spike gave her a comforting pat on the withers, then headed back towards the castle, glad the conversation with the morose teen had gone better than expected. He was just stepping through the gate when movement overhead drew his gaze upward. _What the bloody hell is...?_

His eyes widened in horror as his brain finally processed what he was seeing arcing straight for the castle. Spike dashed across the courtyard, shouting to anyone within earshot, _"Take cover! Incoming!"_

The missile struck the castle with a deafening explosion which flung the vampire back several yards. He must have blacked out for a second, because when he opened his eyes, parts of the castle proper had collapsed and there were flames everywhere. The fire's color was sickly green and had a stench that made the hairs on the back of Spike's neck stand on end.

Spike lurched to his feet, checked himself for injuries. Nothing serious; some more cuts and bruises. Looked like the coat got the worst of it. Spike let out a sad moan as he peeled the ruined garment off himself. There was no way he'd ever be able to repair it. The damage was just too extensive. Regretfully, he tossed the coat aside and ran for the castle. He needed to be sure everyone got out alive.

He had to smash his way through the door into the command center. Much of the room was engulfed in green flames. Huge chunks of fallen masonry and support beams littered the floor and many of the computers were smashed. He saw two Slayers carrying a third towards the escape hatch and Xander talking frantically to another girl at the main control panel, probably trying to send out a mayday. Spike recognized the girl as Rowena. He hurried over.

"Status!" he barked.

"We got most of the squad out through the tunnels," Xander informed him.

"'Most'?"

"Vest tower collapsed," Rowena answered, her German accent more pronounced from stress, "At least seven..." She looked away, unable to finish the sentence.

"Do you know what hit us?" Xander asked.

Spike grimaced. "Saw it before it hit. Some kind of sodding missile. Gotta be mystical, unless fire started burnin' green and nobody told me."

The flames began to coalesce and solidify into recognizable shapes.

"Also, interesting sidebar," Xander added, "Flames are not medieval cobra-faced foot soldiers."

One of said cobra-faced soldiers swung a glowing flail into an already damaged computer bank, shattering it further. Spike grabbed Rowena and shoved her towards the escape hatch. "Tunnels! Now!"

Xander cried out as a glowing green arrow pierced his shoulder. While Spike hurried to his side, another massive ceiling beam crashed down between them and the escape tunnels.

"Sir!" Rowena yelled from the other side of the burning beam.

"Get the Slayers out!" Spike bellowed.

The girl still hesitated. "Sir..."

"Or, yeah, maybe we should discuss the pros and cons and put it up for a vote," Xander snarked, _"Go!"_

Rowena finally obeyed and vanished into the tunnels. Spike grabbed the mystical arrow and none-too-gently pulled it out. Xander grunted, "_Nnnaaa_okay. We just gotta..."

The cobra-men began closing in on them.

"Snakes...green...fire..." Xander blinked in dismay, "I can't believe I don't have a pun."

Spike placed himself between the injured man and the nearest snake-soldier, snarling in full vamp-face. A large figure suddenly leapt through the flames and kicked the approaching cobra-man into the nearest wall with enough force to crack the stone blocks. Spike glowered at their rescuer. "You shouldn't bloody be here, Niblet!"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're welcome. Those things are all over the place."

Xander struggled to his feet only to nearly keel over again before Spike reached over to steady him. Dawn's brow furrowed in concern. "How bad?"

Xander panted, "Unless I can fall down and throw up my way out of here, I got nothin'."

Spike frowned. "I can probably carry you out of here."

"No," the eyepatched man shook his head, "I'll just slow you down."

"Okay, okay," Dawn anxiously bit her lip, "Xander's gonna have to...ride me."

The injured man slowly turned his head to look at her. "Wh-What?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "She's half horse, you git! Get on her back."

Xander blinked. "I knew that."

Moments later, Spike and Dawn were speeding away from the burning castle and dodging cobra-men while Xander clung to Dawn's back for dear life.

"_Aagh!_ You're pulling my hair!" the centaur-girl yelled.

"I'm holding your mane!" Xander corrected.

"My mane _is_ my hair!"

"Head for the woods!" Spike ordered, taking the lead.

Even galloping on four powerful legs, it was all Dawn could do to keep up with the vampire. They raced through the night-dark trees, leaving the flames and the mystical soldiers behind. Not that Spike believed they were in any way safe. Those cobra-men were bound to follow them. It was only a matter of time before they caught up.

"Xander!" Dawn cried as the injured man slid off her back. She and the vampire skidded to a halt and hurried back to check on him.

"You alright, Harris?" Spike asked.

"I'm okay. I'm good. I just..." Xander grimaced and sat up. "I didn't break anything that wasn't already shot." He looked up at Dawn. "How're you feeling?"

The teen wiped some of the copious sweat off her brow. She'd worked herself into quite a lather; her flanks gleamed with moisture. "Like I was ridden hard and put away wet."

"Ew! Dawn, that's dis—Oh," Xander blinked, "No. It's just true."

Spike patted the girl's shoulder. "Thanks for the save back there, Black Beauty."

Dawn quirked an eyebrow. "That's 'Chestnutty Beauty.' And what the hell do we do now?"

Xander looked back the way the came. "I'm pretty sure those flamey, snakey ren-fair monsters are still coming."

"And the escape tunnel leads in the other direction," Spike grumbled, "No hope of gettin' the Slayers any time soon, then."

"Wherefrom with these guys?" Dawn queried, "I just heard a bang."

"Oh, it's easy," Xander replied, "Bomb, plus magic, equals Tucker and his army buddies."

Spike growled and bared his fangs.

Dawn scowled. "Man, I'd love to get them under my hooves."

She and Spike helped Xander to stand. "First we gotta find a way out of these woods," the former carpenter declared, "Before there's any more—"

"Intruders must die!" a strange voice bellowed.

Spike glared at the former carpenter. "Why do you open your bloody mouth?"

Three of the most bizarre creatures any of them had ever seen emerged from the surrounding trees. Parts of them _were_ trees, with roots that acted as walking tentacles and leafy branches jutting from their shoulders. Their heads and torsos looked semi-human, but their right arms morphed into flaming swords (regular flames, not green). The centermost creature spoke in a ridiculous cross between Scottish and surfer-dude accents. "This place is forbidden to humans," he proclaimed, "To gaze upon the forest souls is inevitable death. Thus swears Lorelahn!"

Spike, still in gameface, shared a look with the centaur Dawn. "Yeah, do we look like soddin' humans to you, tree-boy?"

"And more importantly," Xander interjected, "did you just say 'thus swears'?"

The vampire snickered.

"What's the deal anyway?" Dawn asked the increasingly befuddled creatures, "With the fire and the branches and the sword. Did you get caught in a legend blender?"

Spike and Xander both laughed over that, then Xander spoke up, "Seriously, Lorelei—"

"Lore_lahn_," the tree-guy corrected, "With an 'ah' sound."

"We got things following us that are way scarier than you," Xander continued, "So how's about you show us the way out of the forbidden thicket and we'll call it a weird, horrible day."

The tree-man struggled to wrap his head around this unexpected information. For a moment he tried to stick to the expected script, "Uh, it is death to..."

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. Dawn stamped her hoof in impatience.

Lorelahn finally gave up. "Like...what's scarier than us?"

_A bloody lawn jockey's scarier than you lot_, Spike thought, but kept to himself, for once. He let Xander hash it out with the tree-folk while he focused his attention on Buffy's frantic emotions screaming at him through the link. Not for the first time, he wished the Claim could convey words as well as feelings so he could let her know what was happening. Instead, he had to settle for reassuring Buffy that he was okay. That he was (relatively) safe. For now, anyway.

Lucky for them, Lorelahn and his people liked the idea of a bunch of flaming cobra-faced soldiers rampaging through their woods even less than human intruders. They quickly got word out to every mystical forest resident to take up arms and join forces in the most motley, slapdash army imaginable. There were even extra weapons for Spike, Dawn, and Xander to wield.

The sickly glow of the approaching enemy soon appeared.

"Wood creatures!" Lorelahn thundered dramatically, "The time of battle is upon us! Let us show these abominations the forest's rage!"

"Followed quickly by the forest's denial," Xander muttered, "bargaining, and short, painful acceptance."

"Oh, man up, Harris!" Spike growled, "This ain't our first rodeo, you know."

Xander wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and hefted his borrowed sword. "I'm sick of rodeos. Why can't we have a nice dog-and-pony show instead?"

"Play your cards right," Dawn smirked, brandishing a huge two-handed sword she never would have been able to lift as human girl.

The battle commenced with the expected roar from both sides. The forest creatures fought valiantly, but no matter what they did to their opponents, the damage simply melted away from the cobra-men's insubstantial bodies.

Spike snarled in frustration as a beheaded snake-soldier casually reattached its head. "If we can't do some permanent damage to these buggers, this is gonna be a real speedy brawl."

"Remember my running away proposal?" Xander quipped.

Suddenly, a white glow enveloped the cobra-headed army. When it faded a moment later, the snake-men were no longer made of green flames. They were flesh.

Dawn pointed excitedly, "Look!"

Rowena was leading the entire surviving squad into the fight. "Wiccans to ta rear!" she commanded, "Slayers, fuck 'em up!"

The mystics, led by Willow, fell back from the immediate fighting and continued to cast various spells to help with the battle. Cobra-men began to fall as their flesh-and-blood bodies were hacked to pieces by Slayer and forest-dweller alike.

"Don't let any slip through the line!" Lorelahn shouted.

The snake-soldiers were too stupid to realize they were now vulnerable. They kept coming, only to be cut down one after the other. It wasn't a battle so much as a cleanup operation. When it was finally over, the battle ended decidedly in the good guys' favor.

Spike drove the end of his sword into the ground and flopped down with his back against a tree. He was bone-weary and covered in snake-man gore, which had a sour odor that made him a bit queasy. He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

"Spike."

He cracked open an eyelid to find Willow kneeling beside him. She was holding her cellphone out to him. "It's Buffy."

The vampire snatched the phone from her—nodding a brief thanks—and brought it to his ear. "Buffy."

_"Willow told me what happened,"_ Buffy's voice quavered, _"I got...I got a call. But I was too late. By the time I got through to Will it was too late."_

Spike understood. Buffy meant she got a warning from their inside man, the very same man she secretly met up with in New York.

_"I should've been there."_

"It's not your fault, luv," Spike soothed, "It happened so fast, I doubt we could've evacuated the castle even with a warning."

_"Some of the girls didn't make it,"_ Buffy sobbed with the guilt.

Spike sighed. "You're not to blame for that, Buffy. You know that."

Her response was just a whisper, _"Yeah."_

"I'm alright," he assured her, "Red and the Bit are alright. Hell, even Harris is alright. Most of the girls made it, and we can rebuild whatever damage was done to the castle. These bastards haven't beaten us, kitten. Not by a long shot."

He sensed her pulling herself together. She had her moment to wallow in guilt, now she was going to be the Slayer again. _"I'll be home in a few hours,"_ she told him in a stronger voice, _"I love you, Spike."_

"I love you, Buffy."

_"Could you give the phone to Dawn? I wanna hear her voice."_

Spike got up, tracked down the teen, and gave her the cell. "Big sis wants to talk."

Dawn eagerly took the phone and spent the next twenty minutes in tearful conversation with her sister, until the battery finally ran out.


	21. Chapter 21: Predators & Prey pt1

**A/N:** A nice, long chappie for your weekend. Happy reading! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_The thing about the Slayer organization is that we're not just coworkers._

_We're family."_—Andrew Wells

Willow stood morosely amid the ruins that was once Scotland HQ's command center. Much of the loose rubble had been cleared out, leaving an open space surrounded by scorched walls. It would take some time to replace all the state-of-the-art equipment that was destroyed in the attack.

Buffy stepped through the doorway (the door itself having been smashed to smithereens when Spike busted his way in) and approached her friend. "Leah said you wanted to tell me something."

The redhead chewed her bottom lip, eyes fixed on the toes of her shoes. "I figured out why Tucker and his army buddies sent the mystical missile."

"'Cause...they wanted to kill us?" Buffy half-jested, "I mean, they were bound to follow through on their threats sooner or later."

"Yeah, but...they sent it when they did 'cause they thought you were here. You were the target." Willow held her hand out. Nestled in her open palm was what appeared to be a small glass bead.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Shiny. What is it?"

"I-It's like a tracking device," Willow explained, her expression miserable, "When Tucker snatched me and took me to that Initiative-y secret base, he... I-I mean I heard him say how you and me are always around each other. He called me your witchy sidekick." She pouted for a second. "But when he started...started cutting...I just thought he was being all slasher-movie sicko. But he was really planting this on me. _In_ me."

Appalled, Buffy gaped at the harmless-looking bead. "You mean that thing was in your head? How the heck did you get it out?"

"Right when the missile was homing in on this thing's signal, I got this killer migraine. Like, _bam_." Willow shuddered. "I knew it wasn't a natural headache and that something really bad was gonna happen. That's why most of the castle's still standing; I managed to get a partial shield up. And when the attack was over, I had one of the stronger healer wiccas get the tracker out of me." The witch finally turned her guilty eyes towards her best friend. "I should've known Tucker did something to me. Should've had the healers look me over. This attack's my fault."

Buffy shook her head and gripped Willow's arm. "This is _not_ your fault, Will. If anything, you kept it from being so much worse than it was."

The redhead swallowed. "Seven girls are dead."

"You said it yourself, they were targeting me. If Tucker hadn't been so sure he could pinpoint my location, the army guys probably would've launched a way bigger attack on _all_ the HQ's. Now we know we've gotta step up our security. They won't be able to get in any more sneak attacks." The Slayer hugged her friend. "It's okay, Will. What happened here was awful, but we survived. We would've lost a lot more than seven girls if you hadn't thought fast and put up that shield."

Willow sniffled and stepped back from the comforting embrace. She gazed down at the bead in her hand, muttered a few words, and the tracker vaporized with the barest _pfft_ and a thread of smoke.

* * *

In the ensuing weeks, while they worked on repairing the damage to the castle, there were no further attacks from the secret military organization. Probably laying low while they tried to figure out why their surprise bombing didn't give them the results they'd hoped for. Meanwhile, every HQ throughout the world beefed up their security, both technological and mystical. From now on, if so much as a trained pigeon tried to approach, they'd know about it before it was even in range of human sight.

Three weeks after the attack, they received a call from London. Willow, Xander, Buffy, and Spike were all squeezed into the glorified closet that functioned as their temporary command center at the time. Willow brought the caller's image onto one of the computer monitors and everyone was mildly surprised to see Anya's face wink into frame.

"Hey, Anya," Buffy greeted, "Where's Giles?" Xander waved somewhat shyly to his ex over the blonde's shoulder.

Anya waved back. Her hair was a bit longer than it had been back in Sunnydale, a little past her shoulders, and dyed a bright shade of red that she somehow managed to pull off as stylish. _"Giles is still working on reprogramming that moody vampire you brought us."_

"I think you mean 'rehabilitating,' An," Xander corrected with a fond smile.

The former vengeance demon shrugged. _"Whatever. The only thing I care about is he hasn't tried to kill me. Or anybody else,"_ she added as an afterthought. _"He hasn't even complained that much about having to drink pigs blood."_

"Well, that's good," Willow responded, optimistic, "If he isn't causing any trouble, then maybe Giles is getting through to him."

_"Oh, sure!"_ Anya readily agreed, _"That and the heavy shackles. And the Slayers constantly watching over him. With cattle prods."_

Spike smirked from his slouched position in one of the office chairs, slightly apart from the rest of the group clustered around the computer.

_"Now that I've gotten the obligatory pleasantries out of the way,"_ Anya continued, _"We got an urgent call from Andrew in Rome. He says he has a lead on Simone Doffler's whereabouts."_

Buffy visibly straightened at this. Simone and her gang of rogue Slayers had been stirring up a lot of trouble since that first hit on an Italian military armory. Reports started coming in: attacks on banks, military bases, and the occasional Hot Topic. More recently, there were also reports of a gang of vicious bandit women roaming the countryside, kicking people out of their homes. But so far, none of the Slayer organization's attempts to locate them had worked out. "Simone? Seriously? Ever since she went rogue, she's been off the grid. How did he find her?"

_"Not her,"_ Anya replied, _"Her lieutenant, Nisha. Andrew has been monitoring demon activity in Italy's hot spots and this morning he got a ping outside Milan. Seems Nisha's been messing where she shouldn't and got herself snared in a Ragna spider demon's trap."_

Now it was Spike's turn to sit straighter. "A Ragna demon? I thought those blighters went extinct 'round the eleventh century."

_"They did."_ Anya grinned at their incredulous looks. _"I do my own monitoring of demonic activity, only I focus on my former coworkers, the vengeance demons." _For months after Anya chose to become human again, D'Hoffryn had put a price on her head to every demonic hitman. Like the vengeance demons he ruled and the women they granted wishes to, D'Hoffryn didn't handle getting spurned by his favorite girl very well. But once Anya nearly died in the final battle against the First, the powerful Lower Being suddenly had a change of heart and the bounty on her life was called off. Since then, Anya had maintained a tentative communication with the vengeance demons. As long as the Slayers didn't directly attack his girls, D'Hoffryn tolerated the arrangement._ "Last week, a scorned woman in Milan wished that her cheating lover would be eaten by a giant spider. Apparently, he had arachnophobia."_

"'Had'?" Buffy asked, already guessing the answer.

_"Yes. He's dead now. The Ragna ate him up,"_ Anya cheerfully replied.

Xander hesitantly spoke up, "Um, how do we know it didn't eat Nisha up?"

_"Ragna demons keep their prey alive for thirty-six hours before feeding,"_ Anya explained, _"Something about adrenaline being yummy."_

"So, we've still got some time," Spike declared.

Buffy nodded agreement. "Yeah, but not a lot. Plus, there's travel, so if we're gonna go, I say we go ASAP."

_"I anticipated that you'd want to be the one to retrieve her,"_ Anya stated, not without a little preening, _"I've already booked a flight for you and Spike on the next available flight to Italy."_

The petite blonde was surprised. "Thanks. But, uh, how'd you know I'd be taking Spike?"

The former vengeance demon rolled her eyes. _"You always take him along. It's like you two are joined at the hip. Not that I blame you. It's handy having your boyfriend close by if you're in need of a good orgasm—"_

"Hokay!" Xander reflexively interrupted. He swiveled his chair to face Buffy. "Willow and I can hold down the fort while you two go after the baddies."

Buffy tried—and failed—not to look ambivalent at the thought of leaving the HQ yet again. "Are you sure? Maybe one of us should—"

"They can handle it, luv," Spike interjected, with the unspoken implication that he was _not_ staying behind while she gallivanted off on another dangerous quest by herself.

Buffy looked at him and the corner of her mouth twitched. "You do realize coming along means spending several hours in Andrew's company."

The platinum blonde vampire's eyes widened for a second before he forced an air of indifference. "I'm willin' to take the risk."

"You sure about that?" Buffy couldn't resist wheedling, "Hours and hours of travel time with Andrew? Really?"

Spike's shoulders rose in a nonchalant shrug. "I'm sure the bloke's matured since the last road trip."

Xander's cynical snort could be heard out in the hall.

* * *

"Spike?" Andrew's face lit up in delight when he saw the vampire disembark from the plane. He immediately ran up and threw his arms around the startled peroxide blonde. "Oh, _mio Dio!_ It's so great to see you!"

Buffy snickered at Spike's mortified expression. She wasn't at all insulted by Andrew's unintentional snubbing. In fact, the less he talked to her, the better.

Andrew finally released the vampire and stepped back to ogle him. "Love the new look," the nerd complimented, "Black denim really brings out your alabaster skin."

Buffy covered her mouth, shoulders trembling. Spike threw a quick glare her way. "Lost my duster in the attack," he muttered in response.

Andrew's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! You must've been heartbroken. That jacket was like your second skin."

Spike repressed a growl, mostly because the geek was hitting a little close to the mark. He'd worn that duster for thirty years. Few things in his long, nomadic existence stayed with him for any significant length of time. Just Drusilla, the duster, and his Zippo lighter. Now all he had from his old life was the lighter.

He pretended to straighten his black denim jacket. "Time's a wastin', Andrew."

The former Trio member eagerly grabbed up their overnight bags before either of the couple could protest and practically ran for the exit. "I'm parked just outside!"

Andrew's car was a bright red Ferrari. _Figures_, Spike thought sourly. He squeezed into the backseat, hoping that would reduce the chances of the irritating man-child trying to engage him in conversation. Buffy took the front passenger seat. The second she pulled the door shut, Andrew revved the sports car's engine and peeled out of the car park.

As the miles flew by, Andrew rambled non-stop about anything and everything that the couple could not care less about. Buffy endured, while Spike dozed in the backseat. The vampire was surprised to discover that the continual drone of Andrew's voice was rather soothing, like white noise.

"...unless the crystal in the lightsaber is made of kryptonite, because then, sure, a Jedi could totally kick Superman's ass..."

"...which is why I always thought Vanity Smurf was kind of misunderstood..."

"...But the worst part was that Lee got really fat, and Dualla was probably all 'Come back, Billy,' but he couldn't come back, because he was dead, so now she was stuck with fat Lee, and that was _not_ what she signed on for, believe me..."

"...in her prison cell, reading about how fascists took over England, and the whole story is on toilet paper, but it's not gross like you would think, it's beautiful..."

"...see, the idea is that Helen Keller becomes, like, a secret agent for the government, right? Which makes her Helen _Killer_, get it? Genius!..."

"...Do you think I should start dressing like Don Draper? Because I think I could totally pull it off..."

"...But why would a Jedi be fighting Superman in the first place? They're on the same side! Duh!..."

"...and suddenly Daniel Craig is my new favorite Bond, and I never thought that could ever—"

"Stop," Buffy's voice broke in an interminable time later.

"Thank god," a half-asleep Spike mumbled under his breath.

But then Buffy twisted in her seat to face Andrew, her expression suddenly excited. "You said Daniel Craig. I _love_ Daniel Craig! He's so..."

"Gritty and real?" Andrew suggested.

Spike lifted his head and opened his eyes, his face a study in horrified confusion. Had he slipped into some twisted alternate dimension while he was napping?

"Um, sure," Buffy humored the kid, "Oh! And that thing where he's running on rooftops and cranes? I've done that, and I was _still_ scared for him!"

"Right! I know!" Andrew happily agreed, "Gritty, real, and vulnerable."

"And those swim trunks," the Slayer leered, "Hello, daddy!"

"Oh, god!" Spike clamped his hands over his ears, "Have some bloody mercy!"

"Hey, chillax, Spike. We're just geek-bonding," Andrew retorted, then he brightened. "Ooh! If you're not a Daniel Craig fan, what do you think about Pierce Brosnan?"

The vampire snorted, "In what? _Mrs. Doubtfire_?"

Andrew damn near drove them off the road. "Aauuugggh!" he wailed in indignation, "How dare you!"

Spike rolled his eyes at the nerd's dramatics. "Are we there yet?"

Andrew huffed, checked his handheld computer. "According to my readings...Oh, crap! We just passed it!"

This time, he did run them off the road.

* * *

Once they managed to dislodge the Ferrari from the ditch, Andrew backtracked until he found a clear spot to park. "We'll have to walk from here," he said, pointing towards the woods.

The three of them tramped through the dense stand of trees, following the path Andrew's GPS indicated. "The lair should be here. We ought to be seeing it any second."

Buffy came to an abrupt halt, mouth open. "Um, is that it?"

Spike's eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "Bloody hell."

Before them was a huge mass of tangled steel pipes, sheets of corrugated tin, and the occasional TV antenna. Buffy and Spike gaped at the impressive structure, but Andrew remained matter-of-fact. "Yep. That's a Ragna's version of a web. And at the top," he pointed, "the snare to trap and suspend her prey."

They probably would have figured that out on their own, since the snare consisted of a big glowing sphere of pink light in which a young woman floated spread-eagle and upside-down.

"Reckon we got ourselves a spot of climbing," Spike mused.

"Delightful," Buffy sighed, "So, let's go get Nisha down."

Thankfully, the Ragna's web was more stable than it looked. It hardly shook as the three of them clambered up its tangled structure. Spike was the first to reach the snare.

"She alive?" Buffy called up to him.

But it was the trapped girl who answered, "Yes, she is. And she's kinda not happy."

"Well, well, well," Andrew drawled once he and Buffy reached Spike's side, "I see we've gotten ourselves into quite a jam."

Nisha's eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna get my foot into quite your ass soon as I'm free, you tiny—"

"Is that slang for 'Thanks, I appreciate the rescue'?" Buffy asked in a fake-innocent tone, "You're welcome."

"Whatever," the girl huffed, "Just get me down. That thing's coming back."

"What thing?"

A distant clicking drew their attention to the base of the structure where a gigantic spider was just starting to make its way towards them.

"Oh," Buffy didn't quite squeak, "That thing."

"Looks like Charlotte's headin' back to the web," Spike observed wryly. Although at the rate the beastie was climbing, it'd be mid-afternoon by the time it reached them.

Buffy slipped into Slayer mode. "Let's get Nisha down before that thing gets up here."

Nisha scoffed, "You losers wouldn't have to get me down if you hadn't created this mess in the first place."

Buffy rounded on the trapped rogue Slayer. "Hey! A little gratitude wouldn't be out of order," she snapped, "If Andrew hadn't been on top of things and monitored the demon situation, you'd be getting eaten by now. It's not our fault you fell into a—a Manga trap, or whatever."

"Please! You seriously believe that?" Nisha rolled her eyes. "Andrew wasn't monitoring. He knew our gang's been raiding in this area and he lured the freaking demon here!"

Spike and Buffy turned matching suspicious glares on the cringing man. Sheepishly, Andrew reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small device. When he pressed the button, there was a whirring sound and the snare popped out of existence like a huge pink bubble. Nisha dropped and landed with a painful grunt in a graceless heap at their feet.

Andrew crossed his arms and sulked like a defensive child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. "So, I'm thinking... Does it really matter _how_ we got Nisha in custody?"

"You turned a dangerous demon loose in a populated area," Buffy grated between her teeth, "and lied to us about it. I think it's salient, yes."

"It's not _that_ heavily populated out here," Andrew's voice took on its signature whiny edge, "I mean, the odds against a local getting snagged were—"

"Not really the point, Andy-boy," Spike growled. If anything, he was even angrier than Buffy, if only because he figured he should've known better than to fully trust the well-meaning, but inept Watcher-in-training.

"And I didn't lie," Andrew insisted, "I said Nisha was in a Ragna trap. I just didn't say where it came from."

"I'm fine, by the way," the largely ignored girl rasped from where she still sprawled.

There was a sudden flash, then a fist cracked Spike across the jaw. He staggered, shook his head, and when he looked up he saw none other than Simone pointing a big gun at Buffy and Andrew.

"Don't even think about it, Blondie," the punk girl sneered, "I'm bettin' my trigger finger's quicker than you are."

Spike gritted his teeth, but stayed put.

Simone kept her eyes on Andrew and Buffy while she called out to her lieutenant, "You okay, Nish?"

"Fine," Nisha groaned and picked herself up, "Bit of a head rush. Been upside down for eighteen hours."

"Sorry we couldn't track you down sooner." Simone grinned at the blonde Slayer. "And you. Not nice, capturing one of my girls, Buff. Luckily, I got a real skilled wiccan who was strong enough to beam me right here to the signal. 'Beaming,' right, Andrew," she turned her sneer on the young man, "That's what you _Stargate_ nerds call it?"

Andrew glowered. "It's _Star Trek_, hag. Were you not listening to any of my lectures?"

"Look," Buffy interjected, "Slappy-fight's over, Simone. Come back with us before that spider thing gets up here. We can sort out whatever's—"

"Come back?" Simone bellowed a laugh, "What the hell for? So I can play the good little soldier in your army, fighting monsters with pointy sticks?" Her expression hardened, looking all the more severe with her mostly bald head and numerous piercings. She hefted the gun for emphasis. "Why would I wanna be your pawn when I'm already running my own game?"

Some of Buffy's exasperation seeped into her voice, "Come on, Simone. You really think a gun is the way to deal with me?"

"What? This?" The rogue Slayer snorted and shifted her aim skyward. "Please. I'm not here to shoot you. And if I was, I'd use a real gun, not one of these toys. This isn't for you." She abruptly turned and fired at the approaching Ragna demon. "It's for _her_."

Instead of the expected bang, the gun shot a beam of yellowish light which encased the huge demon in a forcefield.

"Need her calm so I can take her with us." Simone laughed and threw a cheeky wave. "See ya, bitches."

Another flash, a loud pop of displaced air, and Simone, Nisha, and the Ragna were gone.

"Bloody brilliant," Spike growled, "Not only did that mohawked bint get away with our prisoner, but now she's got a bleedin' Ragna demon which _you_ practically giftwrapped for her." He jabbed an accusatory finger at Andrew.

"Hey, we needed to catch one of Simone's gang," Andrew retorted defensively, "I used what I had available. A giant Ragna demon wouldn't have been my first choice, but I had to think fast."

"You should have come to me," Buffy reproached.

"No," Andrew said, his tone lacking the usual whine for once, "I had to do it myself. It was my fault she got away in the first place. I was Simone's Watcher." He lowered his head. "It's bad enough my brother's been attacking you. What if you end up blaming me..."

Buffy's expression softened. "Andrew," she touched his shoulder, "We'd never blame you for Tucker's actions. And losing an insane, gun-loving, punk Slayer isn't going to make us lose faith in you. But lying, even by omission, is."

"Now that Simone's got the Ragna, she's probably gonna use it against people," Spike theorized, "Make it her very own attack demon."

Andrew shook his head. "Ragnas don't live that long. Only a couple of weeks. And since there aren't any male Ragnas for her to procreate with..." He shrugged.

"Guess that's why Charlotte was takin' her sweet time gettin' up here," Spike mused, "She was feelin' her age."

"Well, that's one thing in our favor," Buffy muttered.

"And here's another." Andrew dug his handheld out of his jeans pocket. "I can track the demon. When I was luring her out here I managed to plant a small tracking device on her. Ironic, right?" he flashed a hopeful grin, "Using the Ragna demon is what made you mad, but it's also the thing that will help us find it, so, if you think about it, yay! And also...hmm. You don't seem to be fans of irony, so...yeah..." He quickly focused his attention on the device while the couple glared at him. "It's on an island off the coast."

"Good." Buffy readied for the climb back down. "Let's go."

* * *

The ride in the rented motor boat out to the island lacked any conversation, for which Spike was relieved. He was fairly certain that if Andrew spouted one more piece of sci-fi trivia or attempted to justify his idiotic actions, he would snap the boy's neck without a second thought.

The island was beautiful, bathed in the red-gold light of sunset, with a picturesque village whose buildings were likely far older than even Spike was. The only obvious sign that anything was wrong was the total lack of any people. The streets were empty, no other boats were moored at the docks. Even the stray cats and dogs were keeping a low profile. But then, as they were securing the motor boat to the dock, a little girl miraculously showed up and approached them on the pier.

"Excuse me. You're not supposed to go in there," she indicated the village, "No one is supposed to go in there."

Buffy smiled and crouched down to the child's eye level. "You speak English."

"Yes. They taught us in school. I used to live in the village, before the Angry Woman came." The little girl shuddered. She was thinner than she should have been, her plain brown dress hanging loosely from her. The dress sported several tears, though it was clear it had once been well made. A well-off girl who'd fallen on hard times.

Spike crouched down beside Buffy. "Tell us about the Angry Woman, luv," he coaxed in a surprisingly gentle voice.

The child absently toyed with the edge of one of the holes in her dress. "She just arrived one day. She said she was hungry and my grandmother fed her and gave her tea. But then the Angry Woman stood in the village square and told everyone they had to find new homes, because this island was hers now." The little girl blinked back the tears that welled up in her large brown eyes. Her lip trembled. "My grandmother yelled at her and the Angry Woman hurt my grandmother."

"Where did everyone go?" Buffy asked.

"Most fled to the mainland. But my grandmother and I, we have nothing there. So we stayed here, on the docks. We don't go into the village." The child sniffed and wiped her eyes.

Buffy reached out and gently took hold of the girl's hands. "We're going to talk to the Angry Woman," she assured her, "She can't just take your home. Someone needs to explain that to her."

The little girl didn't seem convinced. She remained at the docks while Buffy, Spike, and Andrew entered the village. The farther in they went, the more signs they encountered of the gang's presence. Parts of the town looked like a war zone; the rogue Slayers obviously having fun with the ordinance they stole from various armories.

"Looks like the bint's made herself comfortable here," Spike remarked.

Andrew consulted his handheld, nodded towards a mostly intact building. "Signal's coming from this place. The opera house."

The interior showed the same signs of abuse. Broken furniture, shattered bottles, bullet holes in the walls, and graffiti that proclaimed SLAYERS RULE.

"Can I just point out that I was just trying to do the right thing?" Andrew said as they approached the double doors at the opposite end of the lobby.

Buffy frowned at him. "Seriously? This seems like the time? When we're about to walk in there?"

"We might not come out of this alive," Andrew reasoned, "And I want to make sure I've said everything I need to say to you. And now I have." He reached for the doors, paused. "Wait, no. Also, I know I'm in the minority, but I liked it when you cut your hair. There," he smiled, "Now I've said everything."

Spike couldn't quite suppress a ripple of amusement at the boy's sincerity. He shared a put-upon look with Buffy, then the two of them followed Andrew through the doors.

It was dark inside the opera house. "Can you see anything?" Buffy whispered to the vampire.

Before Spike could respond, light suddenly flared from the overhead chandeliers, revealing over a dozen girls armed with various weapons: hand guns, shot guns, high-power rifles. Most of the gang members were scattered throughout the audience seats, but Simone was lounging in a throne on the stage with her lieutenants to either side of her.

"Nice of you to make it," she drawled, "Some of the girls were getting concerned about you. But I told them nothing would stop the Great and Powerful Buffy from riding up on her great steed. Or, as the case may be, her pathetic lap dogs."

Spike's lip curled in a silent snarl.

Simone grinned. "I knew you couldn't resist following me. Counting on it, really, because here," her sneer widened, "I've got my muscle with me."

Buffy remained outwardly calm as she and her companions approached the raised stage. "Give us back the Ragna demon, Simone."

The mohawked Slayer hopped up from her seat and grabbed a fencing sword from a stack of discarded props. "I don't want to fight you, Buffster."

Buffy crossed her arms and fought to keep her expression neutral, even though she really didn't like the gun-happy lunatic using one of her friends' nicknames for her.

"Don't have anything against you," Simone continued, casually waving he sword about, "Truth is, I admire you. You're just outdated is all. You keep holding us back, telling us we gotta keep a low profile, when we could be running everything!"

"So you think the answer is to take over an island," Buffy retorted drily.

"I'm powerful," Simone declared, "Isn't that what powerful leaders do? Annex things? I've claimed this place as Slayer territory. Our base of operations. From here, we can launch our attacks. We can bring our oppressors to their knees."

A scornful laughed escaped Spike's lips. "Oppressors? Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Soddin' Joan of Arc?"

"Shut your mouth, vamp!" Nisha snapped. Spike sneered at her.

Simone focused her piercing eyes on Buffy. "You want us to live under everybody else's rules. The weaker people. But we're Slayers. We can be the agents of change and fear we were meant to be. It's who we are!"

"It's not who I am," Buffy responded calmly.

"You know I'm right," the rogue Slayer challenged, "And guess what? Andrew's little spider friend can help. Figure out how to breed a few more, we got ourselves a weapon, everyone falls into line." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating a huge cage partially concealed in the backstage shadows. The Ragna's multiple red eyes glowed balefully from between the thick steel bars.

Buffy shook her head in disgust. "You'd kill innocent people."

"It's a war," Simone countered, "No such thing as innocent."

"We'll stop you."

The punk Slayer rolled her eyes. "Look, arachnophobia here is just a Plan B, anyway. We're taking over. We don't need her to do it. You want her back so bad, you can have her." An evil smile stretched across her face. "Just give me Andrew."

Buffy's stoic expression finally cracked. "What?" she exclaimed, "You'd give back the demon for just _Andrew?_" She quickly whispered an aside, "No offense, Andrew."

"None taken," the young man whispered back.

"Yeah, for Andrew," Simone replied to her earlier question. "I mean, come on! Someone like _him_ was in charge of someone like _me?_ In case you haven't figured it out, I'm not a fan of authority to begin with. And he's kind of a drill sergeant, which, you know, fuck that. I want my payback." She threw a contemptuous glare at the kid. "Also, he's incredibly annoying."

"Tell me about it," Spike snorted, "But you're still not gettin' the little sod."

"What he said," Buffy nodded, "Only less British-y." She placed her hands on her hips. "You're not taking him."

In the next instant, her foot lashed out behind her, kicking away the gang members crowding her. Buffy then leapt to where the stage props lay and grabbed up a fencing sword for herself. Simone laughed as she and the blonde Slayer started to duel. Meanwhile, one of the girls restrained Andrew while several others tried to take on Spike. Despite the fact that he was outnumbered, the master vampire held his own against the less experienced Slayers.

Buffy suddenly jumped straight into the air and grabbed hold of one of the chandeliers with her free hand. Simone smirked as she gazed up at the dangling Slayer. "Does that feel precarious?" she mocked, "It _looks_ precarious. And it looks like you're trapped."

Buffy didn't bother with her usual one-liners. Instead, she swung from the chandelier until she build up enough momentum to launch herself into a graceful somersault. Her sword lashed out and sliced through the chandelier's support line, and she grabbed onto the tall stage curtains and slid safely to the ground.

Simone barely managed to leap away in time to avoid getting smashed under the fallen chandelier, losing her sword in the process. The next thing she knew, Buffy was standing before her with the point of her sword pressed to Simone's neck.

"I've been doing this longer than you," Buffy reminded the girl, "Which means I'm more experienced. So, you're done."

Simone sneered. "And I'm younger than you. Which means I'm faster. So, you're fucked."

An ominous click drew Buffy's attention down to the semi-automatic handgun pointed at her gut.

"This is a real gun," Simone clarified.

Buffy exhaled through her nose and reluctantly threw away the sword. "I'm really not a fan of guns."

"And here I thought we had so much in common, philosophy-wise," Simone drawled sarcastically. "This is still so easy. Just give me the loser. You get the demon, and no one has to get hurt. Well..." she chuckled, "Almost no one."

Andrew was half-dragged over to Simone. She reached over with her free hand and viciously yanked his short hair.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"Buffy," Andrew spoke up, "That demon is what matters. I'll stay, and everyone will be safe. I need to do this. It's simple logic. The needs of the many outweigh the needs—"

"Andrew," Buffy interrupted with an exasperated sigh, "I've been hanging out with Xander for eight years. I've geek-bonded with him, too, and I'm familiar with the Book of Nerd Quotes. I'm not moved." She turned her steely gaze on the rogue Slayer, unintimidated by the weapon pointed at her. "Simone? Keep the demon, don't keep the demon. I don't care. I'll find a way to stop you. But Andrew comes with me. I don't walk away from my people. Because that's who _I_ am."

Simone's features twisted in a parody of sympathy. "That's a shame, 'cause it's my sixteen Slayers to your one. And it looks like your pet vamp went and scampered off when things got too heavy."

"Actually," a new voice broke in, "he just stepped out for a moment to bring in the reinforcements."

The opera house quickly became crowded as the entire Italy squad stormed in. While Buffy, Spike, and Andrew had used the very public and visible docks for their approach, the squad had sneaked in with a small fleet of motor boats on the opposite side. It was a bit rougher landing, plus they had to hoof it to the village, but they arrived just in time to meet up with Spike as he was coming to fetch them.

What they lacked in advanced weaponry, the squad made up for in numbers and discipline. They soon had Simone and her gang surrounded. Spike appeared, using the vampiric speed he rarely utilized, and pressed the muzzle of a gun he snagged in the brawl to Simone's temple. Buffy snatched the handgun from the distracted girl and pointed it at the gang member restraining Andrew. "Give me back my nerd."

Andrew beamed as he was released and trotted to Buffy's side.

"I thought you didn't like guns," Simone spat.

"She doesn't." Spike's thin smile didn't reach his ice-blue eyes. "I'm okay with 'em, however." He pressed the weapon harder into the girl's temple, denting the skin. "Tell your girls to surrender and we'll let 'em live."

The rogue Slayer scoffed. "Or what? You'll shoot me? I don't think you're boss is gonna like that."

Spike didn't so much as twitch. "I'm gonna count down from ten," he stated with absolute calm, "Then I'm going to shoot you. Ten...nine...eight..."

As the vampire steadily counted down, Simone's bravado waned. When Spike reached four, she shouted, "Drop your guns!"

Her gang hesitated the briefest instant, then they surrendered their weapons. Restraints were brought out and secured around the girls' wrists. Soon the entire gang was in the squad's custody.

"There! It's done!" Simone cried, scowling, "You won."

Buffy felt it, a mere second before it happened. She felt her lover's resolve.

"One."

* * *

**A/N:** I know. I'm evil. But I promise not to leave you guys hanging too long before the next update. Cross my heart. ;-)


	22. Chapter 22: Predators & Prey pt2

**A/N: **Not sure how well this turned out, but I hope it gives a sense of closure to the Simone storyline.

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_Things just got exciting."_—Simone Doffler

There was none of that slow-motion crap depicted in the movies. One moment Simone was standing, the next she was on the floor with an expanding pool of blood surrounding her head. Some of her blood—and other, less savory things—had spattered onto the girls that stood closest to her. Everyone's expressions were wide-eyed and horrified. The silence was even more explosive than the blast of the gun. Even the Ragna demon was quiet.

"You killed her," Nisha's stunned whisper could be heard throughout the opera house. Then her eyes fastened on Spike, who'd calmly lowered the gun, and her words repeated in a devastated scream, "You killed her! _You fucking monster!_"

Nisha and most of the gang struggled against their restraints, but luckily Italy Squad kept their cool, even though they were every bit as shocked by the vampire's actions. Buffy, on the other hand, continued to stare aghast at her lover. Surprisingly, it was Andrew who took control of the situation and ordered his Slayers to take the prisoners back to the waiting boats. They would contact Giles once they returned to Rome. With any luck, he would be able to tell them how to deal with the captive gang.

Andrew found a sheet somewhere in all the scattered opera house paraphernalia and draped it over Simone's body. He then nodded towards the caged Ragna demon. "What should we do with that?"

Spike sighed, looked at the gun in his hand. "I'll take care of it."

"No," Buffy interrupted. She marched over to him and yanked the gun from his grasp. Her blazing hazel-green eyes bore into his steady blue gaze. "Andrew," she spoke without looking away from Spike, "Go outside. We'll meet you back at the docks."

Andrew nodded somberly and left the opera house.

Buffy struggled with her self-control, though everything in her wanted to start throwing punches. She knew Spike wouldn't fight back if she did. He'd just stand there and take it until he dropped. But Buffy couldn't do that to him, not again, not with the Claim allowing her to feel every blow. Just the thought of it made her stomach roil. So, instead, she resorted to words; her least favorite type of confrontation.

"Why'd you do it?" her voice was rough with suppressed emotion, "Simone and her gang surrendered. Why did you kill her?"

The corners of Spike's mouth curled in a sad smile. "Because she had to die."

Buffy's mouth fell open, appalled. "What?"

"She was a threat. Not just to you and me and Andrew, but to _all_ of us," Spike declared, "Her and her bloody gang were gonna draw so much attention to themselves, it was only a matter of time before people started figurin' out these weren't normal girls. That's the worst possible way for people to find out about Slayers. They'd see you all as monsters. Start huntin' you down. Then it'll be just like that soddin' general said; you'd be at war with the human race. _Everyone_ would be out to get you and any girls they thought were too strong to be 'normal.'"

Buffy shook her head, not because she didn't believe him, but because she didn't want to hear it. "But we've captured them all! Simone wasn't a threat anymore."

"You think she'd start behavin' once you locked her up?" Spike snapped, his angry tone implying she should know better. "She would've gotten away, luv. Sooner or later. Then this whole mess'd start up again. You know it."

Buffy swallowed thickly, turned her head away. Spike reached over and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You couldn't kill her," he reasoned in a gentler voice, "She's human and a Slayer. But I could, and I'd do it again. Simone's never gonna put any of us in danger again, and none of the gullible chits who followed her will give us any more trouble, 'cause they saw how it worked out for their leader. I know you think what I did was wrong, luv. But I don't regret it. I don't feel guilty about it. You needed an executioner, and that's what I was." He moved his hand from her chin to lightly caress her cheek. "I'll always be what you need me to be, Buffy. Even if it's not what you _want_ me to be."

Having said his piece, Spike turned away and went to kneel beside Simone's shrouded body. He rolled the body up in the dusty sheet and hefted it over his shoulder, then quietly walked out of the opera house.

Buffy wasn't sure how long she stood there in the wrecked building. Her thoughts were in turmoil, part of her thinking this was wrong, so wrong, while another part of her knew Spike was right. They couldn't turn Simone over to the police. They couldn't keep her imprisoned without running the risk that she'd one day escape. They couldn't trust that she'd turn her life around, because it was obvious that, unlike Faith, Simone had absolutely no desire to return to the side of "good." There was no easy solution that would enable everyone to walk away with their hands clean. Spike knew that. He was often impulsive, but Buffy knew he must have thought it all out before he ever pulled that trigger. He understood what he did and was prepared to face whatever consequences resulted. So that Buffy wouldn't have to.

A clicking noise and the rattle of metal bars drew her attention to the cage. The Ragna was getting agitated. Buffy looked down at the gun she'd taken from Spike, took a deep breath, then walked over to the cage and raised the weapon. Two shots in the Ragna's bulbous head, and the spider demon collapsed, the red glow of its eyes fading to black. Buffy turned her back on the dead creature and exited the opera house without a backward glance.

* * *

They buried Simone on the mainland in a wooded area that was hard to get to even on foot, which reduced the chances of somebody stumbling across the grave.

The little girl and her grandmother, who'd been living out on the docks, thanked them profusely for saving their home from the vicious bandit women. They planned on moving back into their house and contacting the villagers that had been displaced by the gang's invasion, let them know it was safe to return. Buffy consoled herself with the thought that at least something positive came out of this whole incident.

As for Italy Squad, the Slayers kept throwing wary looks Spike's way. Buffy had no doubt that word of his killing Simone would soon spread to the rest of the squads. There would be tension in the future, possibly even confrontations with other Squad leaders. Buffy dreaded it, but accepted whatever might happen as inevitable outcomes and deal with them as they came.

Buffy was jarred from her thoughts by a knock at her hotel room's door. She and Spike decided it might be more comfortable for everyone if they didn't stay at Rome HQ. Ostensibly, she was packing her overnight bag for the trip home. She wasn't sure where Spike was exactly, but had a feeling it was a safe bet that he was haunting one of the local pubs. His emotions in the link carried that particular melancholy flavor he got when he was trying to drink his troubles away.

She answered the door and was mildly surprised to discover Andrew on the other side. Before she had a chance to ask what he was doing here, he thrust a flash drive into her hand. "Here. I wrote down everything I know about my brother. Figured it might help you find a weakness or maybe figure out his next move."

"Uh, thanks." She pocketed the flash drive. "You wanna come in for a sec?"

Andrew entered the hotel room. Buffy indicated one of the room's chairs while she sat herself down on the edge of the bed. They both fidgeted in tense silence before Buffy finally spoke up. "Look, Andrew, you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save innocent people. That's huge for you. And...I wanted you to know that I'm proud of you for it."

Andrew ducked his head. "But I lied to you about the Ragna demon."

"Yeah," she smiled ruefully, "You're part of the family. Get used to screwing up for good reasons. It's what we do."

"Like when Spike killed Simone?" Andrew asked with his usual tactlessness.

Buffy's already weak smile died altogether. "That's...That's different."

The kid cocked his head in innocent curiosity. "How come?"

"Because..." She chewed her lip, stared down at her knees, then forced the words out, "Because I'm not sure what Spike did was a mistake. It wasn't _right_, but...but it wasn't totally wrong, either." She covered her eyes with her hands and heaved a weary sigh. "And I hate it, because I don't know how to handle something that isn't all bad or all good. It's just not how my brain works, y'know?"

Andrew gave a sympathetic shrug. "Probably doesn't help that he's the love of your life, right?"

Buffy let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah." She lifted her head to meet his guileless eyes. "Killing Simone wasn't right," she stated as she began to comprehend it, "It was necessary."

"So...you're not mad at Spike?" Andrew asked, a little too hopeful-sounding.

The petite blonde mustered a smile. "No. But not everybody's gonna accept what he did. There'll be consequences."

"Like what?"

"Like...I might not be squad leader for much longer." Among other, less pleasant prospects.

Andrew's eyes widened in horror at the thought. "But you're The Slayer!"

Buffy smiled at his child-like loyalty. "Well, at least I know you've got my back." She stood. "I need to go find Spike. Our flight leaves in a few hours."

"Right." Andrew hopped to his feet. "Thanks for not kicking me out of the organization," he said as they both stepped out the door, "And thanks for not, y'know, letting me make my noble sacrifice. 'Cause I was kind of hoping you'd come and rescue me or something."

Buffy laughed and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome, Andrew."

While she went off in search of her wayward vampire, Andrew headed back towards Rome's Slayer HQ. He was about halfway there when he paused mid-stride. Something Buffy said to him earlier suddenly sank in.

"I'm part of the family?"

A small, joyful grin appeared.

* * *

Buffy followed the invisible thread of the link to Spike's current whereabouts. As she suspected, he was seated at a bar working his way through a bottle of whiskey. A human would've been drunk off his ass at this point, but having a vampire's constitution, Spike was only somewhat buzzed. He sensed her approach and swiveled around on the bar stool.

"Slayer," he saluted her with his shot glass. He noticed the box tucked under her arm and quirked an eyebrow. "Squeezed in some shopping after all, eh?"

"Something like that," Buffy replied neutrally, "I saw it in a window on my way here."

"Hmph." Spike tossed back his drink, reached for the bottle behind him to refill it. "Don't suppose you'd care to toss back a few with me."

"We need to leave soon if we wanna get to the airport in time," Buffy reminded him.

Spike glanced at the clock on the wall. "Right you are, luv." He abruptly set the shot glass down and stood. He dug a few bills out of his pocket, tossed them onto the bar, then followed the Slayer to the exit.

Neither one of them said a word on the walk back to the hotel. When they entered their room, Buffy set the box down on the bed, then turned to face the white-blonde vampire, arms crossed.

"Aren't you gonna ask what's in the box?"

Spike cocked his head, a puzzled frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. "Okay. So, what's in the box?"

Buffy reached down to lift the box's lid. Nestled inside the tissue-lined box, neatly folded, was a beautiful black leather coat. Buffy lifted it out. The coat unfolded until its edge nearly brushed the carpet. Spike's mouth parted in astonishment; it looked exactly like his old duster.

"Turns out, Italy's pretty famous for its leather," Buffy smiled.

Spike truly didn't know what to say. "Uh..."

Buffy's expression fell. "You don't like it."

"I... Why'd you buy this for me?" He stared at her, confused and slightly wary.

She carefully draped the coat over her arm and approached him. "Because you're right. You're always what I need. Even when what I need is something I think I should run from." She halted inches from him, gazed up into his soft blue eyes. "You didn't enjoy killing Simone. You weren't giving in to your vampire nature. You did it because I couldn't." Buffy reached out to rest her hand over his unbeating heart. "How can I push you away for doing what you had to do?"

Spike blinked several times, swallowed around the tightness in his throat. He wordlessly shed his denim jacket and tossed it onto the bed beside the empty box. Buffy stepped behind him and helped him into the duster. She moved to stand in front of him and gently smoothed down the lapels. "Looks good."

Spike cupped her face in his hands and brought their foreheads together. Eyes closed, foreheads touching, they breathed each other in.


	23. Chapter 23: Living Doll

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

"_You live in this wooden body just as surely as a human lives in flesh."_—The Old Toy Man

Buffy stood on the parapet, addressing the Slayers gathered in the courtyard below. Spike stood a step back and to her left, his new duster flapping dramatically in the wind.

"I'm sure most of you heard the rumors about what happened in Italy. Most of them are pretty outrageous, but all of them share one detail in common: that Spike killed Simone." Buffy paused to take a fortifying breath. "I'm telling you here and now...that it's true."

Astonished murmurs filled the courtyard. Buffy held up a hand to quiet them before she continued. "It wasn't cold-blooded murder. Spike didn't drain her or rip her throat out or do any of the gory things some of the rumors say he did. He executed her with one of her gang's own guns."

At the back of the crowd, Xander, Willow, Dawn, and a newly returned Tara all nodded encouragement. Buffy had already told them the whole story beforehand. It was a long and arduous meeting, but in the end they all agreed that this was the best way to inform the Slayers of the truth. Now, Buffy calmly related the entire incident, as well as the reasons for Simone's death. How the rogue Slayer threatened them all with the risk of drawing attention to their existence to the world in the worst possible way.

"A lot of you won't agree with what Spike did. A lot of you might not be comfortable working with him anymore." Buffy looked down on the sea of faces and saw expressions of worry, anger, and ambivalence. "Anyone who wants to transfer to another squad can put in your request today. Those of you who stay, I expect you to treat Spike with the same respect as before. He's still my second-in-command, and I still trust him with my life and my family's lives. You can either deal, or leave. Those are your choices."

Some did opt for transfers to different squads, though not as many as Buffy feared. She was surprised to find out later on that many of the girls actually agreed with Spike's actions. There was still some awkwardness, but it passed after a while and things soon returned to their kind of normal.

* * *

"I'm generally okay with most of the things Dawn's not," Buffy said as everyone was gathering the weapons from the armory. "She's not punctual, not tidy. She's _very_ not good about returning the _Veronica Mars_ DVDs I finally got to play on my stupid Scottish player..."

"So awesome," a grinning Xander enthused, "End of season two, they—"

"Don't tell me!" Buffy cut in with a warning glare. She returned to fumbling with the gauntlet she was trying to slip onto her left arm. "But 'here' is on the list now," she continued, "As in 'Dawn is not here.' And that worries me."

"What's the big?" Xander asked, "She probably galloped off with a few woodland buddies to, I dunno, sow some wild oats—metaphorically or otherwise. We were young once, remember?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "You're _still_ young. Barely into your bloody twenties, for god's sake," he grumbled, grabbing one of the better swords before one of the girls could take it.

Buffy sighed, "The big is, if latest intel is even remotely accurate, we got a splinter army of vamps led by Judas Cradle."

Xander grimaced. "Hate him. Vamp army sweeping the countryside, and our friend Flicka out there alone. We have to rescue Dawn, and I don't mean the underrated Christian Bale movie."

"I wanna get my sister to safety, too. But we can't," Buffy stated, "Not now. The threat outside's too big. I need every Slayer I've got here. I mean, look at me!" She held up her gauntleted arm; two long blades jutted from between the metal glove's knuckles. "Who dresses like Wolverine for fun?"

Xander coughed and rubbed his neck. "Certainly not me."

Spike barked out a cynical chuckle.

"Any proof you've seen to the contrary could have easily been photoshopped," the eyepatched man insisted, "And besides, I was drunk."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "It's my fault," she muttered guiltily, "If I'd spent a little time being more sister than Slayer, maybe Dawn wouldn't have needed to trot off with her forest buddies for days at a time."

Spike gripped her shoulder. "You're bein' too harsh on yourself, luv."

"Captain Peroxide's right," Xander agreed, "You're not a Slayer, you're _the_ Slayer, and every soldier here needs you." He shrugged. "Also, teenagers like to run free. Four-legged ones probably twice as much."

Satisfied that the gauntlet was secure, Buffy picked up the Scythe with her other hand. "When this is over, things are gonna be different between the Summers girls. First," she turned to Xander, "think you can splinter off, take a recon group and find her?"

Xander scoffed, "Hello? Command central? War coming, the eyepatch is stayin'. Besides, yours truly planned ahead." He preened. "I may not find Dawn, but I know a guy who can help."

The Slayer brightened. "You do? I love you. How?"

"I have an ace in my hole," Xander quickly backtracked, "Let me instantly rephrase that. We have an inside man."

"Harris sent Andrew to Berkeley to hijack the Thricewise," Spike explained. At Xander's incredulous look, the vampire shrugged. "I heard you talkin' it out with Red and Glinda. Somethin' about the boy posing as a new roommate."

Xander rolled his single eye. "Way to steal my thunder."

"Hey," Buffy interjected, "as long as it works and helps Dawn, I don't care whose idea it was."

She looked over her squad, saw everyone was armed and ready to march. "Let's go dust some vamps."

They intercepted Judas Cradle's army—which was more of a chaotic mob—outside one of the numerous villages that dotted the Scottish countryside. One furious battle later, and the vampires were all dust.

"That was a fun distraction," Spike remarked as they returned to the castle. The weapons were returned to the armory, then everybody went to unwind in their own way.

"Now that the danger's past, what's say we go find Dawn?" Buffy suggested.

Xander remained behind to help Willow and Tara with the Thricewise-abduction while Buffy and Spike ventured out into the woods in search of the wayward centaur-girl. It was dark enough that Buffy needed a flashlight. A thick layer of fog shrouded the landscape and a huge full moon shone down from a lightly clouded sky. It might have been romantic if Buffy wasn't fretting so much.

"She knows how to take care of herself, luv," Spike tried to assure her.

"I know," Buffy's tone was less than convincing, "She's a big girl. _Really_ big, lately. And it's not like she hasn't been in plenty of fights herself."

The vampire smirked. "I sense a 'but' comin' on."

"But she's my baby sister! I'm supposed to keep her safe."

"Talk about an impossible goal," Spike muttered. "Nobody's ever really safe, luv. Not even the so-called normal people just tryin' to get through the day. Doesn't matter how hard they try to avoid it, danger always finds 'em, whether it's gettin' mugged or choking on a burger 'cause they forgot to bloody chew."

"Great. Now I feel like I gotta watch Dawn like a hawk at every meal." Buffy glared at the platinum blonde beside her.

Spike chuckled, then frowned as he noticed something on the ground. Buffy paused beside him and played her flashlight beam over the area. The crescent-shaped depressions of Dawn's hooves were clearly visible, then they just...ended.

"Her tracks disappeared."

Spike shook his head. "Worse." He pointed at some much tinier depressions leading away from the hoofprints. "Transmogrified. Looks like we're into phase three of Kenny's curse."

"And now I'm alarmed."

They began to follow the new trail. "This spell took work," Buffy observed, "How dangerous is this Kenny?"

"Hard to say," Spike replied, "You don't usually get a strong spell from a Thricewise. 'Parently, he's a nice bloke who just snapped after Dawn shagged his roommate."

"She _what?_" Buffy gaped, "How am I finding out about this now?"

Spike grimaced and threw his head back. "It can't be because I just told you, 'cause I promised the Bit I'd never do that. Bugger!"

"I can't believe she confided in you and not me," Buffy grumbled, "I mean, what the hell! Did she think I wouldn't understand?"

"I think she didn't want you to be disappointed in her, luv." Spike's expression was sympathetic. "You might be at each other's throats all the time, but you're still her big sis. She looks up to you. So to speak." He smirked.

A ringing in her pocket prevented Buffy from thinking up a retort. She dug her cellphone out and answered it. It was Willow. "Did you get Kenny here?" Buffy asked.

_"Uh, yeah,"_ Willow sounded antsy, _"The plan worked great. Andrew planted the totems around the dorm room and the teleportation spell went off without a hitch."_

Buffy huffed in relief. "Finally! Something's going our way. How soon can you get him to reverse the spell on Dawnie?"

_"Uhh-m...er..."_

"Willow," Buffy's tone became suspicious, "What're you trying not to tell me?"

The witch caved, _"Kenny got away."_

The Slayer closed her eyes, but otherwise didn't react. "He got away."

_"I-It happened really fast!" _Willow stammered, _"Kenny dropped his human glamor and smashed through the door. I didn't know Thricewises were so big, and squiggly, and with the three eyes—"_

"Will," Buffy broke in, "Just...take a team and track him down. Me and Spike are gonna keep looking for Dawn."

_"O-Okay. Don't worry, Buffy. We'll get him."_

"'Kay." Buffy ended the call and pocketed the phone. "Guess you heard that."

"Not all I heard." Spike flicked his eyes towards the trees.

Buffy tensed. "Something's trailing us?"

The vampire nodded, then picked up a rock and hurled it into the branches overhead. There was an audible _bonk_ and something dropped to the ground with a loud squeak. Spike quickly grabbed the downed creature by a hind leg and held it up. It was about the size of a cat, with a round, furry body. A thick cover of leaves sprouted from its head and back, and its face resembled a creepy Joker mask.

The forest creature started babbling in a strange language.

"No, no, no," Buffy waved an admonishing finger in its porcelain-white face, "You do not talk to me about breaking the truce between wood folk and humans when you've been trailing us." She pointed at the trail. "Teeny-tiny people tracks. They disappear a few feet ahead. Where'd they go? Who'd want a little gal around here?"

The creature glared. "I'll tell you nothing!"

A wicked grin stretched across Spike's face. "Was hopin' you'd say that." He abruptly hurled the creature into the dense undergrowth. A second later, there was a loud crash. "Huh," Spike cocked his head, "Sounds like I just broke somebody's window."

The couple wended their way through the thick brush until they reached a clearing.

"There's a cottage," Buffy pointed.

"Out in the middle of an enchanted forest? That can't be good," Spike remarked. "But here's my question," he pointed at his throat, "What're these tiny arrows doin' in my neck?"

Buffy was alarmed when he began to sway on his feet. She reached out to steady him. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Little...poisoned, maybe..."

"Buffy!" someone cried out from the cottage. The voice was at a higher pitch, but still recognizable as Dawn's. The cottage door opened and dozens of little figures poured out, armed with tiny bows. As the mini-archers fired off their weapons, a large yellow tentacle appeared in front of Buffy and intercepted the tiny arrows. Another tentacle swept the little archers aside.

Buffy gawked at the bizarre creature towering over her. It looked like some kind of giant mollusk, minus the shell. Three bulbous eyes stared at her from a mass of waving cilia.

"Um...Kenny?"

"I never wanted it to go this far," the Thricewise's strangely human voice was filled with remorse, "Let me help."

"Wouldn't say no to an assist," Spike said, plucking little arrows from his neck.

Buffy gave him a worried look. "You alright?"

"Bit woozy. I'll live." He smiled wanly at his weak joke.

"Okay," Buffy turned to Kenny, "Let's go save Dawn."

The rescue consisted of nothing more than Kenny smashing through the cottage door. Buffy and Spike rushed in with the Thricewise and discovered an old man clutching a doll in his gnarled hands. A doll with Dawn's face.

Spike growled and slipped into his gameface. "Better put the doll down, Gepetto."

"Ken?" The doll's painted eyes widened.

The Thricewise reached out a tentacle. "Dawnie."

"Kenny, I'm sorry."

There was a flash that knocked the old man back, then Dawn was standing, fully human...and totally naked. Kenny grabbed a blanket from the cottage's single bed and gently wrapped her in it.

Buffy stormed over to the old man and yanked him up by his shirt collar. _"You know who I am?"_ she shouted in his face, _"Know that's my sister? Then know this will hurt!"_

She drew her fist back, only to be thwarted when Spike grabbed her wrist. Her head jerked towards him, a snarl on her lips, when she realized Dawn was yelling at her.

"Stop it! Buffy, please. He wasn't trying to hurt me."

"Don't hurt him," another, smaller voice spoke up. Buffy turned towards it and saw dozens of living dolls gazing fearfully up at her. One that looked like a little old woman raised its hands imploringly. "He keeps us safe."

Buffy looked at the old man. His eyes were wide and terrified, his hands trembled. She'd seen that look countless times—on the faces of the victims being attacked by vamps. Before she saved them.

She turned the old man loose and watched him hobble over to his dolls. They clustered around him like anxious children while he soothed them.

Buffy swallowed. "Let's go home."

* * *

Morning was just starting to break by the time they got back to the castle. Dawn had changed into some clothes and now she and Kenny were walking together out in the field beyond the castle walls, having a much needed and long delayed heart-to-heart. Buffy leaned on one of the battlements and watched the odd couple strolling hand-in-tentacle. She wasn't sure which was weirder; that Kenny hadn't resumed his human guise, or the fact that Dawn wasn't the least bit put off by his natural appearance.

Buffy didn't turn around when she felt Spike approach. He leaned against the wall beside her to watch Dawn apologize to her Thricewise ex.

"Where've you been?" Buffy asked.

"Went back to check on the old man," Spike told her, "Him and his dollies were already fixin' up the damage to their cottage."

Buffy experienced a twinge of guilt. "Dawn told me what happened. After she got turned into a doll, she fell. Her head was made of porcelain, and she ended up with a big crack across her face. That's when the old guy found her." She lowered her gaze to her hands resting atop the wall. There was some loose grit where the ancient mortar was wearing down. She picked up a pebble and rolled it between her finger and thumb. "The old man was a toymaker. Real Gepetto type, y'know? Started making dolls out of the wood he found in the enchanted forest and some of them came to life. So he didn't freak when he found Dawnie. He knew she had a soul, though. He told her if that crack got any bigger, her soul would just blow away. So he took her home and he fixed her."

"Saved her life," Spike observed.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Only when he was done fixing her, he wouldn't let her leave. Kept telling her it wasn't safe."

"Nowhere's safe," Spike declared in a quiet voice as he watched Dawn part ways with Kenny, both of them looking forlorn. "Only thing anybody can do is help each other get strong enough to handle whatever danger comes."

Buffy sighed, straightened. "I'd better go down and meet with Dawn. We've got a lotta things to talk about."

"Want me to go with?"

She shook her head. "This is sister stuff."

"Fair enough." Spike closed the small distance between them and pecked a brief kiss on her forehead. He was already getting out his smokes when Buffy headed for the steps leading down from the battlements.

The petite blonde intercepted her sister as she crossed the courtyard. "I know what you're going to say," she began before Dawn had a chance to open her mouth, "I'm not there for you. Not enough. That I'm so preoccupied with leading the Slayers I've forgotten my family. And you're right. Say it anyway, if it makes you feel better."

The teen's mouth quirked. "Would you stop telling me what I'm gonna say and let me say it?"

Buffy held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry. Fire away."

Dawn took a moment to compose her thoughts. Finally, she met her older sister's eyes. "You can't keep me safe," she stated calmly, "And you don't have to."

The Slayer blinked, dumbfounded. "Well, that's just... What's the word? _Stupid_. I'm your sister."

"You're a Slayer."

"Lot of those, these days," Buffy pointed out.

The girl shook her head. "No. Just one." She heaved a remorseful sigh, "I knew Kenny was a Thricewise. Dated him anyway. Pissed him off. Pause for requisite told you so."

"Told you so," Buffy smirked.

Dawn managed a weak smile. "And I did it anyway. Maybe I wanted you to save me. A few years ago, you were the only Slayer, I was your only sister. Now..." she indicated the dozens of young women going through their morning exercise drills, "I'm surrounded by, like, a thousand sorta-little-sisters I can't possibly compete with. They fight in your army. They all come equipped with superpowers and would literally die to get your attention. It sucks."

"Sounds like," Buffy conceded, "But turning yourself into a giant, a horsey, and a rag doll is beyond your normal passive-aggressive."

The teen shrugged. "Could have been worse."

"You're right. About all of it. But—and I love saying this—you're wrong about one thing," Buffy squeezed Dawn's shoulder, "I got a thousand soldiers. Only one sister. I can't keep her safe, and it makes me crazy, but I love her. I love my sister to death."

Fighting back sudden tears, Dawn pulled the older girl into a hug. "Won't come to that."

"Not tonight," Buffy agreed.

They separated and Buffy pretended not to notice when Dawn wiped her eyes. "Wanna watch TV?" the teen asked.

The Slayer grinned. "Only desperately."

They headed for the castle's entryway, each with an arm around the other's waist.

"I might have scratched your _Veronica Mars_ disc..." Dawn winced in apology.

"Aannnd I will kill you."

* * *

**A/N: **Chapters from here on out will go in a totally different direction from the graphic novel series. Mainly because I personally thought the plot took a huge nosedive after this. Hence, AU plot line. Thanks for reading! :-D


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